B    3    5Mb    MSD 


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i 

LADY  MARY  WORTLEY  MONTAGU 


LADY   MARY 


WORTLEY    MONTAGU 


SELECT  PASSAGES  FROM  HER  LETTERS  ^ 


EDITED    BY 

ARTHUR    R.    ROPES,    M.A 

LATE    FELLOW   OF    KING'S   COLLEGE,    CAMBRIDGE 


With  Nine  Portraits 
after  SiR  Godfrey  Kneller  and  other  Artists 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

743-745    BROADWAY 


O  O  S  b 


[. 


CONTENTS 


LHAI'TER  PAGE 

I,  INTRODUCTORY    SKETCH                 -                 -                 -                 -                 -         I 

,  II,  EARLY    LIFE   AND    MARRIAtlE      -                 -                 -                 -                 "34 

III.  THE    EMBASSY    TO    TURKEY          -                 -                 -                 -                 -      62 

^IV.  LIFE    IN    ENGLAND             ......    105 

V.  TRAVELS    IN    ITALY    AND    FRANCE             ....    137 

VI,  RESIDENCE    AT    LOVERE                  .....    174 

VII.  LETTERS   ON    ENGLISH    NOVELS                   ....    202 

VIII.  THOU(iHTS    ON    EDUCATION          .....    227 

IX.  LAST    YEARS    AND    DEATH              .                 .                 .                 .                 ,    261 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


f  ASE 

Lady  Mvrv  Wortley  Montagu,  after  Sir  G.  Ivneller  Frontisf^iece 

Edward  Wortley  Montagu,  after  Sir  G.  Kneller  -  -  -  50 
The  Princess  Caroline,  after  Sir  G.  Kneller        -•■-']% 

Alexander  Pope,  after  Sir  G.  Kneller 106 

William  CoNGREVE,  a//6'r  Sir  G.  Kneller  -  -  ■  -  -  114 
Edward  Wortley  Montagu,  Junior,  after  \V.  Peters,  R.A,  -  162 
Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  after  Sir  G.  Kneller      -        -     204 

Dean  Swift,  after  C.  Jervas 214 

Samuel  Richardson,  ^/'(?;- J.  Highmore 220 

*  f'  The  portraits  of  Lady  Mary  and  her  husband  are  engraved^  by  kind 
■fiermission,  from  pictures  in  the  possession  of  the  Marquis  of  Bute  and  the 
/•  art  of  Wharnclife. 


\ 


^^  UNIVERSITY 

LADY  MARY  WORTLEY  MONTAGU 


CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCTORY    SKETCH 

Introduction — Lady  Mary's  Birth  and  Family — Early  Days — The 
Kit-Cat  Club — Courtship  and  Marriage — The  Embassy  to  Con- 
stantinople— Turkish  Letters — Life  in  England —Family  Troubles 
— Rdmond  and  Lady  Mar— Quarrel  with  Pope — Lady  Mary  goes 
Abroad — Travels  in  Italy  and  Savoy — Stay  at  Avignon — Journey 
to  Italy — Count  Palazzo — Settlement  at  Lovere — Life  at  Venice 
— Return  to  England — Last  Days  and  Death — Editions  of  her 
Letters — Character  discussed — Style. 

"  The  last  pleasure  that  came  in  my  way  was  Madame 
Sevigne's  letters,"  wrote  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu 
to  her .  sister ;  ''very  pretty  they  are,  but  I  assert, 
without  the  least  vanity,  that  mine  will  be  full  as 
entertaining  forty  years  hence."  ''  In  most  of  them," 
said  Horace  Walpole,  fresh  from  reading  a  bundle  of 
Lady  Mary's  letters,  "  the  wit  and  style  are  superior 
to  any  letters  I  ever  read  but  Madame  Sevigne's." 
It  is  curious  that  the  somewhat  flattering  opinion 
expressed  by  the  writer  of  the  letters  herself  should 
have  been  so   nearly  endorsed   by  one  who  was  her 

I 


2  Introdtictory  Sketch 

enemy  by  hereditary  and  personal  feeling,  and  never 
alludes  to  her  without  a  sneer;  but  Horace  Walpole 
knew  the  craft  of  letter-writing,  and  *'  in  spite  of  spite  " 
could  recognise  the  merit  of  another  in  his  own 
favourite  art. 

These  letters,  then,  as  to  whose  merit  author  and 
author's  enemy  alike  agree,  need  no  apology  for  their 
presentment  in  the  form  of  a  selection.  Neither  they 
nor  their  writer,  indeed,  have  been  neglected.  There 
have  been  plenty  of  editions  of  Lady  Mary's  works, 
and  her  name  at  once  awakens  a  crowd  of  varied 
associations.  She  is  remembered  as  the  first  English- 
woman who  sent  back  accounts  of  the  miysterious  and 
magnificent  East ;  as  the  friend  and  then  the  enemy 
of  Pope ;  as  the  courageous  introducer  of  inocula- 
tion ;  as  the  strong-minded,  independent,  eccentric 
traveller.  Alike  to  friends  and  enemies,  she  has  ever 
stood  out  as  a  strong,  original  figure — a  personality 
among  so  many  who  are  only  names  to  us  now,  and 
were  little  more  in  their  own  time. 

But  though,  for  all  who  have  the  time  and  the  taste, 
there  is  no  pleasure  greater  than  consulting  the  mass 
of  the  original  letters,  yet  there  are  many  who  might 
be  repelled  by  the  bulk  of  the  matter,  by  the  super- 
fluity of  contemporary  gossip,  much  of  which  must 
be  a  tedious  riddle  to  a  modern  reader,  or  even  by 
the  occasional  bluntness  of  thought  and  coarseness 
of  expression  which  Lady  Mary  shared  with  nearly  all 
the  writers  of  her  time.  For  such  readers,  then,  I 
have    tried   to  select  some  of  the   more  entertaining: 


Introductory  Sketch  3 

passages  from  the  letters,  stringing  them  together 
with  a  thread  of  explanation  where  necessary. 

Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  belonged  to  the  great 
Whig  aristocracy  that  ruled  England  for  half  the 
eighteenth  century.  Her  father  was  Evelyn  Pierre- 
pont,  the  youngest  of  three  brothers  who  successively 
became  Earls  of  Kingston.  Evelyn  was  so  called 
from  the  maiden  name  of  his  mother,  a  cousin  of  the 
famous  John  Evelyn.  He  married  Mary  Fielding, 
daughter  of  that  Earl  of  Denbigh  from  one  of  whose 
brothers  Fielding  the  novelist  was  descended.  Lady 
Mary  was  born  in  1689,  and  her  baptism  was  registered 
on  May  20  of  that  year.  She  was  the  eldest  child,  the 
others  being  Frances  (afterwards  Countess  of  Mar), 
Evelyn  (afterwards  Lady  Gower),  and  one  son, 
William.  In  i6go  Evelyn  Pierrepont  became  Earl 
of  Kingston,  and  in  1692  his  wife  died.  He  did  not 
marry  again  till  1714,  when  all  his  children  were 
settled  in  life.  He  was  busily  engaged  in  public 
affairs,  and  met  with  his  reward  from  the  victorious 
Whigs,  being  made  Marquis  of  Dorchester  in  1706 
(a  title  already  granted  by  Charles  I.  to  one  of  his 
family),  and  Duke  of  Kingston  in  1715.  His  only 
son,  William,  died  in  1713,  leaving  a  son  who  succeeded 
to  the  dukedom  in  1726,  and  whose  after-life  was  made 
notorious  by  being  linked  with  that  of  the  famous  Eliza- 
beth Chudleigh,  who  was  tried  by  the  Peers  for  bigamy. 

This  early  loss  of  her  mother  must  have  had 
considerable  influence  on  Lady  Mary's  life.  Her 
father,  a  public  man  and  a  man  of  pleasure,  seems  to 

I — 2 


4  Introd^utory  Sketch 

have  taken  but  little  heed  of  his  children's  education. 
Lady  Mary  was  left  to  grow  up  much  at  her  ow^n  will, 
being  given  in  charge  to  a  pious  old  person  who  had 
been  nurse  to  her  mother,  and  who,  if  we  may  trust 
her  pupil's  later  account,  taught  her  little  but  to  read 
and  write,  besides  filling  her  head  with  superstitious 
stories,  w^hich  found  poor  welcome  there ;  for  no  one 
could  be  more  destitute  of  illusions  than  Lady  Mary. 
One  pleasurable  recollection  she  had  of  Lord  Kingston's 
fondness,  which  I  will  leave  her  grand-daughter.  Lady 
Louisa  Stuart,  to  tell.  "A  trifling  incident,  which 
Lady  Mary  loved  to  recall,  will  prove  how  much  she 
w^as  the  object  of  Lord  Kingston's  pride  and  fondness 
in  her  childhood.  As  a  leader  of  the  fashionable  world, 
and  a  strenuous  Whig  in  party,  he  of  course  belonged 
to  the  Kit-Kat  Club.  One  day,  at  a  meeting  to  choose 
toasts  for  the  year,  a  whim  seized  him  to  nominate 
her,  then  not  eight  years  old,  a  candidate  ;  alleging 
that  she  was  far  prettier  than  any  lady  on  their  list. 
The  other  members  demurred,  because  the  rules  of  the 
club  forbade  them  to  elect  a  beauty  whom  they  had 
never  seen.  *  Then  you  shall  see  her,'  cried  he  ;  and 
in  the  gaiety  of  the  moment  sent  orders  home  to  have 
her  finely  dressed  and  brought  to  him  at  the  tavern, 
where  she  was  received  with  acclamations,  her  claim 
unanimously  allowed,  her  health  drunk  by  everyone 
present,  and  her  name  engraved  in  due  form  upon  a 
drinking-glass.  The  company  consisting  of  some  of 
the  most  eminent  men  of  England,  she  went  from  the 
lap  of  one  poet,  or  patriot,  or  statesman,  to  the  arms  of 


Introductory  Sketch  5 

another,  was  feasted  with  sweetmeats,  overwhelmed 
with  caresses,  and,  what  perhaps  already  pleased  her 
better  than  either,  heard  her  wit  and  beauty  loudly 
extolled  on  every  side.  Pleasure,  she  said,  was  too 
poor  a  word  to  express  her  sensations ;  they  amounted 
to  ecstasy  :  never  again,  throughout  her  whole  future 
life,  did  she  pass  so  happy  a  day.  Nor,  indeed,  could 
she ;  for  the  love  of  admiration,  which  this  scene  was 
calculated  to  excite  or  increase,  could  never  again  be 
so  fully  gratified ;  there  is  always  some  allaying  ingre- 
dient in  the  cup,  some  drawback  upon  the  triumphs  of 
grown  people.  Her  father  carried  on  the  frolic,  and, 
we  may  conclude,  confirmed  the  taste,  by  having  her 
picture  painted  for  the  club-room,  that  she  might  be 
enrolled  a  regular  toast." 

Still,  this  single  instance  of  fondness  did  not  blind 
Lady  Mary's  eyes  in  after-years  to  the  neglect  with 
which  she  had  been  treated  in  childhood ;  and  when 
her  father  died,  in  1726,  we  find  her  writing  with 
almost  brutal  directness  to  her  sister,  ^^ Au  hout  du 
compte,  I  don't  know  why  filial  piety  should  exceed 
fatherly  fondness.     So  much  by  way  of  consolation." 

Lady  Mary's  precocity,  however  marked,  did  not  (as 
her  first  biographer  erroneously  stated)  induce  her 
father  to  give  her  a  course  of  classical  study  with  her 
brother ;  and  her  early  education,  as  she  herself  said, 
was  *'one  of  the  worst  in  the  world."  But  she  had 
the  run  of  her  father^s  library,  and  there  browsed 
in  the  pastures  of  French  romance,  Englished  by 
"  persons  of  quality,"  the  Astree  and  the  whole  baggage 


6  Introductory  Sketch 

of  the  Scuderys  and  their  school.  As  she  grew  up, 
she  extended  the  range  of  her  reading ;  and  it  was  on 
the  common  ground  of  learning  that  she  first  met — by 
her  own  account,  when  she  was  only  fourteen — the 
man  who  was  to  be  her  husband. 

Edward  Wortley  Montagu,  or  Edward  Wortley  as 
he  was  more  often  styled  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  life, 
was  the  son  of  the  Hon.  Sidney  Wortley  Montagu, 
second  son  of  Admiral  Montagu,  first  Earl  of  Sand- 
wich, well  known  in  the  Dutch  wars  of  Charles  II. 
Sidney  Montagu  took  the  name  of  Wortley  on  marrying 
the  heiress  of  Sir  Francis  Wortley.  One  of  Lady  Mary 
Pierrepont's  closest  friends  in  girlhood  was  Anne 
Wortley,  Edward's  favourite  sister ;  and  whether 
through  her,  or  in  some  other  way,  the  two  were  soon 
acquainted.  If,  as  Lady  Mary  stated,  she  was  only 
fourteen  then,  he  must  have  been  ten  or  eleven  years 
older  than  herself;  but  he  was  at  once  struck  by  her 
intelligence  and  wit.  Himself  a  scholar  and  a  man  of 
literary  tastes,  the  friend  of  Addison  and  Steele,  he 
directed  her  studies,  and  encouraged  her  to  persevere 
in  teaching  herself  Latin ;  and  some  help  she  also 
derived  from  the  celebrated  Bishop  Burnet,  to  whom 
she  dedicated  a  translation  (through  the  Latin)  of  the 
*■' Enchiridion "  of  Epictetus.  With  Anne  Wortley, 
Lady  Mary  corresponded  ;  and,  as  Anne's  letters  were 
often  written  really  by  her  brother — a  fact  of  which  the 
recipient  of  them  could  hardly  have  been  ignorant — 
these  letters  formed  a  sort  of  indirect  correspondence 
between  Edward  Wortley  and   Lady  Mary.     After  a 


Introductory  Sketch  7 

time  hints  of  courtship  appeared  in  the  letters,  and  on 
Anne  Wortley's  death,  in  1709,  the  correspondence 
was  continued  directly  between  Edward  and  his 
sister's  friend.  A  number  of  her  letters,  and  one  of 
his,  have  been  printed ;  they  form  a  curious  piece  of 
love-making  between  two  clear-headed,  intellectual,  un- 
romantic  lovers,  who  yet  could  not  refrain  from  loving 
each  other.  The  bulk  of  the  love-letters  given  might 
be  said  to  consist  in  enumerations  of  the  excellent 
reasons  existing  for  putting  an  end  to  the  attachment. 

At  last  Edward  Wortley  formally  asked  the  Marquis 
of  Dorchester  for  the  hand  of  his  eldest  daughter ;  but 
although  in  birth,  fortune  and  tastes  the  two  were 
well  matched,  the  Marquis  insisted  on  a  settlement 
being  made  in  favour  of  the  children  of  the  marriage. 
This  Mr.  Wortley  flatly  refused  to  do.  He  objected 
on  principle  to  settling  a  large  amount  on  a  son  who 
might  turn  out  a  fool  or  a  villain ;  and  in  fact  he  had 
furnished  the  materials  and  the  plan  from  which  the 
essay  in  the  Tailev,  attacking  settlements,  was  written : 
he  had  also,  at  all  times,  a  strong  sense  of  the  value  of 
money,  and  thought  a  dowry  too  dearly  purchased  if 
he  must  put  a  considerable  part  of  his  estate  out  of 
his  own  control.  Thereupon  the  Marquis  broke  off 
the  negotiation ;  but  the  lovers  continued  their  corre- 
spondence, and,  by  the  help  of  good  -  natured  Sir 
Richard  Steele  and  other  friends,  they  sometimes  met. 
At  last  Lord  Dorchester  brought  matters  to  a  crisis 
by  ordering  his  daughter  to  accept  the  addresses  of 
a  certain  ''  Mr.  K.,"  as  her  letters  call  him,  who  had 


8  Introdiictory  Sketch 

estates  in  Ireland,  and  liberal  views  as  to  settlements. 
Edward  Wortley  still  refused  to  consent  to  a  settle- 
ment and  outbid  his  rival,  and  Lady  Mary  approved 
of  his  firmness ;  so  the  only  way  for  her  to  escape  the 
unwelcome  suitor  was  to  run  away  with  the  man  of 
her  choice.  After  some  difficulties,  the  lovers  eloped 
in  1712 — probably  August — and  were  married. 

For  some  time,  though  never  in  financial  straits,  the 
two  lived  very  quietly  in  the  country,  either  in  York- 
shire (but  not  at  Wharncliffe  Lodge,  which  had  as 
many  as  it  could  hold  already,  and  was  described  by 
Horace  Walpole  as  '*  a  wretched  hovel"),  at  Hinchin- 
broke,  Lord  Sandwich's  residence,  or  at  Huntingdon,  a 
town  which  the  Wortley  Montagu  family  long  repre- 
sented in  Parliament.  In  1713  their  son  Edward  was 
born.  By  Lady  Mary's  letters  he  seems  to  have  been 
very  weakly  at  first,  and  caused  her  much  anxiety.  In 
1714  the  death  of  Queen  Anne  plunged  the  country  into 
a  frenzy  of  political  excitement.  What  with  the  fears 
of  a  Jacobite  rising,  the  hopes  of  favour  with  the  new 
King,  the  sudden  overthrow  of  the  Tory  Administration, 
there  was  enough  to  think  of  Edward  Wortley  as  a 
Whig,  and  a  relation  of  Lord  Halifax,  was  in  the  way 
of  advancement,  and  his  wife's  letters  to  him  at  this 
time  are  full  of  a  feverish  eagerness  to  have  him  chosen 
for  Parliament,  so  that  he  might  be  borne  on  to  fortune 
on  the  crest  of  the  party  wave.  It  was  not  till  1715 
that  he  was  elected  for  Westminster ;  but  he  did  not 
lack  promotion,  for  he  was  made  a  Commissioner  of 
the  Treasury;  and  his  wife,  coming  up  with  him  to  the 


Introdtictory  Sketch  9 

Court  of  George  I.,  and  becoming  a  brilliant  figure 
among  its  ladies,  had  material  for  writing  an  amusing 
and  rather  caustic  sketch  of  the  chief  actors  in  the 
rather  unlovely  comedy  of  the  Hanoverian  Court. 

In  1716  Edward  Wortley  was  named  as  Ambassador 
to  Turkey  and  Consul-General  of  the  Levant — a  post 
always  of  high  eminence,  and  now  of  especial  import- 
ance, as  England  was  trying  to  mediate  a  peace 
between  the  Porte  and  the  Emperor  Charles  VI. 
Accordingly,  Mr.  Wortley,  with  his  wife  and  child, 
travelled  to  Vienna,  then — a  hitch  occurring  in  the 
negotiations  —  went  to  Hanover,  where  George  I. 
was,  and  returned  to  Vienna,  but  after  winter  had 
set  in.  Previous  British  Ambassadors  had  either 
gone  by  sea,  or  down  the  Danube  by  boat  from 
Vienna ;  and  many  friends  urged  Lady  Mary  to  stay 
at  Vienna  rather  than  venture  in  the  middle  of  winter 
through  a  desolate  country  and  across  the  seat  of  war. 
However,  the  mission  was  urgent,  and  Lady  Mary 
chose  to  accompany  her  husband.  They  arrived 
without  mishap  at  Belgrade,  then  in  Turkish  hands, 
and  thence  went  on  by  Nish  and  Sofia  to  Adrianople, 
where  they  stayed  some  time  and  then  journeyed  to 
Constantinople.  Here,  or  near  here,  they  stayed 
about  a  year ;  here,  in  1718,  their  second  child,  Mary, 
afterwards  Countess  of  Bute,  was  born ;  and  here 
Lady  Mary  devoted  herself  to  learning  all  she  could  of 
Oriental  ways  and  languages.  Among  other  researches, 
she  inquired  into  the  method  of  inoculation  practised- 
by  the  Turks.     It  is   impossible  for  those  who  have 


lo  Introductory  Sketch 

grown  up  in  an  age  of  vaccination  and  sanitary  im- 
provement to  realize  the  part  played  by  the  small-pox 
in  the  history  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  the  dread 
felt,  especially  among  the  highest  society,  lest  the 
inevitable  disease  should  take  away  life,  or,  what  was 
even  worse,  destroy  beauty.  One  of  Lady  Mary's 
Town  Eclogues,  describing  the  sorrows  of  the  hapless 
and  disfigured  Flavia,  was  said  to  have  reflected  her 
own  feelings  while  recovering  from  small-pox  about 
1715,  though  she  escaped  with  the  comparatively 
slight  sacrifice  of  her  eyelashes.  She  had  her  own 
children  ''engrafted,"  as  she  calls  it,  with  satisfactory 
results.  And  besides  all  these  varied  interests,  she 
found  time  to  write  many  letters,  corresponding  with 
her  two  sisters,  both  now  married,  with  Caroline, 
Princess  of  Wales,  the  poets  Congreve  and  Pope,  and 
several  other  friends.  Pope,  indeed,  made  her  the 
object  of  one  of  those  curious  epistolary  and  merely 
literary  courtships  in  which  his  soul  delighted ;  and 
though  she  did  not  reply  in  kind  to  his  hyperbolical 
adoration,  neither  she  nor  her  husband  was  offended 
by  them. 

The  Embassy,  however,  was  a  failure.  The  Emperor, 
for  whom  Prince  Eugene  had  won  victory  after  victory, 
was  too  exacting;  the  Turks,  who  had  wrested  the 
Morea  from  Venice,  were  too  stubborn  ;  and  probably 
Edward  Wortley  himself  was  not  cut  out  for  a  success- 
ful diplomatist.  In  one  of  the  very  few  despatches  of 
his  preserved  at  the  Record  Office,  he  prides  himself 
on  telling  the  Turks  "  plain  truths,"  a  method  not  apt 


Tntrodticto7y  Sketch  1 1 

to  soothe  wounded  susceptibilities.  In  1718,  his  friend 
Addison,  now  Secretary  of  State,  intimated  to  him  his 
recall,  softening  it  by  the  prospect  of  a  lucrative  office  ; 
and  embarking  on  the  Preston  man-of-war,  he  and  his 
family  sailed  to  Genoa,  touching  at  Tunis  on  the  way. 
Mr.  Wortley's  successors  in  the  negotiation,  abler  or 
more  fortunate,  succeeded  in  making  the  Peace  of 
Passarowitz.  No  monument  of  his  own  Embassy 
remained  but  his  wife's  letters,  and  even  these,  as  we 
have  them,  do  not  represent  her  real  correspondence. 
Mr.  Moy  Thomas,  her  latest  and  best  editor,  in  his 
researches  in  the  Wortley  papers,  came  upon  a  list  of 
her  letters  written  during  part  of  the  period  of  the 
Embassy,  with  notes  of  their  contents.  The  published 
letters  correspond  only  very  imperfectly  to  this  precis, 
and  only  two  are  indexed  as  "  copied  at  length."  It 
is,  therefore,  likely  that  such  of  the  letters  actually 
written  as  had  been  copied  were  reproduced  by  Lady 
Mary  with  some  alteration,  and  that  the  rest  were 
reconstructed  from  the  diary  in  which  she  was  ac- 
customed to  note  the  events  and  thoughts  of  every 
day,  and  from  which  she  doubtless  had  drawn  freely 
for  the  original  correspondence.  Thus  these  letters 
are  not  the  real  correspondence,  but  a  more  or  less 
"doctored"  reconstruction  of  it;  and  it  is  curious  in 
this  connection  to  see  how  Horace  Walpole,  himself  an 
eminent  letter-writer,  passed  over  these  letters  with 
faint  praise  or  positive  contempt,  either  as  ''not  un- 
interesting," or  as  containing  "  no  merit  of  any  sort," 
while  he  gave  high  praise  to  the  letters  to  Lady  Mar, 


I  2  Intro  due  toi'y  Sketch 

which  he  saw  as  they  were  originally  penned.  The 
''Turkish  Letters,"  though  not  published  till  after  the 
death  of  the  writet,  were  evidently  prepared  for 
publication,  and  seem  to  have  been  handed  round  in 
MS.  among  a  few  friends  in  1724  or  1725.  They  bear 
prefaces  of  these  dates  by  one  "  M.  A.,"  said  to  be 
Maiy  Astell,  a  friend  of  Lady  Mary's,  and  an  early 
enthusiast  for  the  rights  of  women. 

On  her  return  to  England  Lady  Mary  again  mingled 
in  society,  and  was  one  of  the  acknowledged  beauties 
and  wits  of  the  time.  She  had  many  friends,  and  made 
not  a  few  enemies.  In  that  brilliant  and  frivolous 
society,  where  everyone  dabbled  in  literature  and  could 
turn  a  couplet,  every  social  event  or  scandal  was 
greeted  by  a  witticism,  a  satire,  or  a  ballad.  Of  these, 
Lady  Mary  (whose  poetical  faculty,  though  hardly  high, 
was  above  that  of  other  ladies  of  the  time)  was  respon- 
sible for  some,  and  had  many  more  attributed  to  her. 
Among  her  friends  were,  at  first.  Pope  himself,  and 
some  of  Pope's  future  enemies,  Philip,  Duke  of  Wharton, 
Pope's  ''  Clodio,"  and  John,  Lord  Hervey,  known  as 
the  author  of  the  *'  Memoirs  of  the  Reign  of  George  II.," 
and  better  known  as  ''  Lord  Fanny  "  and  "  Sporus." 

The  friendship  with  Pope,  always  more  or  less  of  a 
literary  make-believe,  did  not  long  survive  Lady  Mary's 
return.  P^or  a  time,  indeed,  he  continued  his  adora- 
tion ;  partly  at  Pope's  request,  she  sat  ta  Kneller  for  a 
portrait,  and  some  of  the  sittings  took  place  at  Pope's 
house  at  Twickenham — though  the  portrait,  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  state,  was  executed  for  Mr.  Wortley  and 


Introductory  Sketch  13 

paid  for  by  him.  Pope,  also,  was  the  agent  between 
the  Wortleys  and  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  for  the  letting 
of  a  house  of  Kneller's  to  his  friends ;  and  he  gave  Lady 
Mary  advice  as  to  the  South  Sea  stock-jobbing,  in  which 
she  unluckily  dabbled.  But  after  a  time  the  friendship 
cooled,  and  the  correspondence  died  out.  Although 
Lady  Mary  and  her  husband  came  to  live  at  Twicken- 
ham, she  apparently  saw  less  and  less  of  the  poet,  and 
she  remarks,  in  a  letter,  that  she  never  visited  his  famous 
grotto.  What  was  the  real  cause  of  the  final  quarrel 
between  them — a  quarrel  not  creditable  to  Lady  Mary, 
and  very  discreditable  to  Pope — it  seems  impossible  to 
determine.  Perhaps  there  was  no  one  special  cause 
for  it.  It  seems  hardly  likely  that  (as  Lady  Louisa 
Stuart  said)  Pope  hazarded  a  passionate,  though 
doubtless  strictly  platonic,  declaration  to  Lady  Mary, 
and  was  answered  only  by  a  fit  of  laughter  that  reminded 
the  sensitive  poet  too  painfully  of  the  contrast  between 
his  high-flown  language  and  his  deformed  person. 
Such  an  incident  might  have  occurred,  if  the  friendship 
between  the  two  had  grown  closer  ;  but  all  the  facts  as 
known  point  to  an  opposite  conclusion.  And,  indeed, 
it  was  only  to  be  expected  that  such  a  friendship 
should  have  cooled.  Pope  had  now  gone  over  to  the 
Tories,  and  the  Wortleys  were  stanch  and  influential 
Whigs.  Mr.  Moy  Thomas  thinks  that  the  final  quarrel 
dates  from  1724,  when  the  manuscript  volumes  of 
Lady  Mary's  letters  from  the  East  began  to  be  handed 
about  among  her  friends.  The  last  of  these  letters, 
nominally  dashed  off  in  haste  in  an  inn  at  Dover  on 


1 4  Introdiicfory  Sketch 

her  return,  is  an  answer  to  I^ope's  celebrated  epistle  on 
the  Lovers  Struck  by  Lightning,  for  which  he  had  so 
great  a  fondness  as  to  send  it  in  various  forms  to  a 
number  of  his  friends.  Lady  Mary  brings  the  poet 
back  to  reahty,  reducing  his  high-flown  epitaphs  to 
matter-of-fact  doggerel,  and  his  pastoral  lovers  to  two 
bumpkins  whose  death  mattered  little  to  any  but 
themselves.  The  date  affixed  to  this  answer  by  the 
writer  is  after  the  day  on  which  the  newspapers  assure 
us  she  had  returned  to  London  ;  so  that  we  can  hardlv 
be  wrong  in  regarding  her  letter  as  written  aprh  coup. 
If  this  were  so,  and  Pope  came  to  know  of  it,  we  need 
seek  no  further  for  a  cause  of  quarrel.  The  mere 
suspicion  of  a  far  less  wrong  on  the  part  of  a  far  closer 
friend  was  enough  to  make  him  wTite  his  famous 
character  of  Atticus.  And  though  he  could  afford  to 
despise  the  coarse  and  blundering  attacks  of  his 
Dunces,  he  would  keenly  feel  this  clever  parody  of 
his  loved  pastoral. 

Other  rumours  were  current,  then  and  afterwards,  as 
to  the  cause  of  the  quarrel.  Pope's  own  account  of  it 
was  that  Lady  Mary  "  had  too  much  wit  for  him," 
which  seems  to  point  to  an  exercise  of  that  wit  at  his 
expense.  But,  in  fact,  some  such  quarrel  was  inevit- 
able from  the  first.  Pope,  sooner  or  later,  quarrelled 
with  most  of  his  friends ;  his  sensitive,  suspicious  and 
spiteful  nature  was  never  long  without  a  grievance,  and 
resented  the  merest  shadow  of  a  slight ;  while  Lady 
Mary  could  seldom  resist  the  temptation  of  ridiculing 
the   weaknesses   of  her   friends,  and   yet  displayed  a 


Introductory  Sketch  15 

curiously   innocent   surprise   when   they  resented   her 
witticisms  by  any  means  in  their  power. 

Even  before  the  final  breach  with  Pope,  her  social 
triumphs  were  often  obscured  by  troubles  due  to  her 
own  imprudence  or  her  misfortune ;  and  in  all  of 
these  Pope  found  pegs  on  which  to  hang  his  spiteful 
allusions.  One  of  Lady  Mary's  greatest  annoyances 
came  from  a  certain  French  witling  and  poetaster,  one 
M.  Remond,  who  had  opened  a  correspondence  of  the 
usual  hyperbolical  sham  love-making  with  her,  and 
had  persuaded  her,  against  her  will,  to  invest  his 
available  property  for  him.  The  money  was  ventured 
once  successfully  in  the  South  Sea  stock ;  a  second 
time  most  of  it  went  the  way  of  so  much  more  when 
the  bubble  broke.  Remond  believed,  or  affected  to 
believe,  that  Lady  Mary  still  retained  the  money,  and 
claimed  the  return  of  the  whole,  threatening  to  disclose 
the  whole  transaction  to  Mr.  Wortley,  and  to  print  her 
letters.  Lady  Mary,  knowing  her  husband's  objection 
to  speculation  and  his  carefulness  in  money  matters, 
dreaded  his  learning  of  her  imprudence ;  she  may  also 
have  naturally  feared  the  wit  and  the  scandal  of 
which  she  would  now  be  the  object.  How  the  matter 
ended,  we  know  not ;  but  probably  Remond  told  Mr. 
Wortley,  and  Lady  Mary  justified  herself  to  her 
husband  by  producing  Remond's  letters,  for  they  seem 
to  have  passed  under  Mr.  Wortley's  eyes. 

Other  troubles  Lady  Mary  had  which  were  not  due 
to  her  own  faults.  Her  son  Edward,  as  he  grew  up, 
was  a  constant  source  of  anxiety.     He  ran  away  from 


1 6  Introductory  Sketch 

school  to  Oxford  when  thirteen ;  then  next  year  ran 
away  again,  and  was  discovered  at  Gibraltar,  after  a 
series  of  adventures  as  a  chimney-sweep  and  in  other 
capacities,  such  as  those  related  in  a  dull  and 
scandalous  so-called  memoir  of  him  published  at 
Dublin  in  1779,  and  several  times  republished  since. 
It  is  curious  to  note  that  in  the  hand-bill  offering 
twenty  pounds  for  his  discovery,  he  is  mentioned  as 
having  the  inoculation  marks  on  his  arm.  This 
practice  Lady  Mary  had  striven  to  introduce  into 
England,  and  with  much  success ;  though  the  oppo- 
sition to  the  novelty,  both  from  the  prejudiced  and 
the  medical  profession,  was  great,  and  the  introducer 
of  inoculation  did  not  escape  obloquy.  It  is  remark- 
able that  in  hardly  any  of  the  letters  written  after  her 
return  from  the  East  does  she  refer  to  the  subject. 
Perhaps  the  reception  of  her  labours  had  disgusted 
her ;  though  her  friend  Caroline,  Princess  of  Wales, 
afterwards  Queen  Caroline,  stood  by  her. 

Another  domestic  trouble  also  served  as  a  theme 
for  Pope's  attacks.  Lady  Mary  had  little  happiness 
in  her  family  relations.  Her  father,  who  never  quite 
forgave  her  for  disobeying  him,  died  in  1726,  and  there 
seem  to  have  been  troubles  over  his  property  wdth  his 
second  wife.  His  only  son  had  died  in  1713.  In  1727 
Lady  Mary's  youngest  sister.  Lady  Gower,  died ;  and 
not  long  after  her  other  sister.  Lady  Mar,  went  out 
of  her  mind.  She  seems  to  have  been  wretched  with 
her  husband,  the  doubly  treacherous  **  Bobbing  John," 
now    strongly    suspected    of    betraying   the   Jacobites 


IntrodMctory  Skelch  17 

whom  he  had  led  to  defeat.  Lady  Mar  was  brought 
over  to  England  and  placed  in  charge  of  her  sister ; 
but  she  had  some  property,  and  on  Mar's  death  his 
unscrupulous  brother,  Lord  Grange,  tried  to  get  hold  of 
his  sister-in-law.  He  was  helped  in  his  endeavours  by 
Lady  Hervey,  jealous  of  her  husband's  friendship  with 
Lady  Mary,  and  by  Mrs.  Murray,  who  had  vowed 
revenge  on  her  for  a  scandalous  ballad  she  was 
supposed  to  have  written.  Failing,  however,  to  secure 
Lady  Mar  by  legal  means.  Lord  Grange  had  her 
carried  off;  but  she  was  brought  back,  and  remained 
in  her  sister's  charge  until  her  daughter,  Lady  Frances 
Erskine,  was  old  enough  to  take  care  of  her,  when,  at 
Edward  Wortley's  request,  Lady  Mary  gave  up  her 
charge  a  little  while  before  leaving  England.  Grange 
was  loud  in  his  complaints  that  Lady  Mary  ill-used 
and  starved  her  sister ;  and  from  him  Pope  seems  to 
have  borrowed  the  charge,  though  Lady  Mar  herself 
apparently  knew  nothing  of  such  ill-usage. 

Pope's  first  open  attack  on  Lady  Mary  is  often  taken 
to  consist  in  two  lines  from  the  "  Dunciad  "  : 

"  Whence  hapless  Monsieur  much  complains  at  Paris 
Of  wrongs  from  Duchesses  and  Lady  Marys." 

This  is  held  to  allude  to  Remond's  story.  However, 
I  think  it  doubtful  whether  Pope  meant  it  so.  The 
context  refers  to  the  way  in  which  worthless  women 
gulled  simple  foreigners  by  assuming  titles  of  rank  or 
the  names  of  noted  beauties,  and  the  reference,  though 
hardly  friendly,  still  in  strictness  means  no  more  than 
that   Lady   Mary  was  a  well-known  beauty.      But  in 

2 


i8  Introductory  Sketch 

Pope's  own  notes  of  1729  to  the  "  Dunciad,"  the  allusion 
is  direct  and  insulting.  *'  This  passage  was  thought 
to  allude  to  a  famous  lady,  who  cheated  a  French  wit 
out  of  ;f 5,000  in  the  South  Sea  year;"  and  Pope  goes 
on  to  explain  that  he  meant  to  satirize  **  all  bragging 
travellers,"  and  all  "cheats  under  the  name  of  fine 
ladies,"  heightening  the  insult  by  affecting  to  explain 
it  away.  Worse  than  this  followed.  Pope  suspected 
Lady  Mary  of  being  concerned  in  some  of  the  libels 
showered  on  him  in  answer  to  the  "  Dunciad,"  especially 
in  "A  Pop  upon  Pope,"  giving  an  account  of  a  sup- 
posed whipping  of  the  poet  by  some  of  those  whom  he 
had  attacked.  In  his  "  Imitation  of  the  First  Satire  of 
Horace's  Second  Book,"  a  vile  couplet  on  "  Sappho  " 
was  generally  applied  to  Lady  Mary ;  and  henceforth, 
under  this  or  other  names,  she  was  constantly  the 
mark  for  malignant  allusion.  How  far  she  was  con- 
cerned in  writing  the  "  Verses  addressed  to  the  Imitator 
of  Horace,"  is  doubtful.  In  a  letter  to  Arbuthnot,  she 
declared  that  the  lines  were  entirely  the  work  of  Lord 
Hervey,  whom  Pope  had  satirized  as  "  Lord  Fanny." 
Yet  the  verses  are  so  much  better  than  Lord  Hervey's 
avowed  answer  to  Pope,  that  there  must  still  be  con- 
siderable doubt  as  to  whether  Lady  Mary  had  not  a 
share  in  them.  The  piece  first  appeared  as  "By  a 
Lady."  Pope  evidently  felt  its  coarse  allusions  to  his 
physical  defects  and  "  birth  obscure,"  and  was  at  great 
pains  to  disprove  the  latter  accusation  in  the  epistle  to 
Dr.  Arbuthnot  prefixed  to  his  "Satires."  From  that 
time  he  never  left  the  Wortley  Montagus  alone.     The 


Introductory   Sketch  1 9 

frugality  and  care  about  money  which  Lady  Mary 
shared  with  her  husband,  and  which  seems  to  have 
come  at  times  near  to  stinginess,  was  satirized  as  the 
most  sordid  avarice  under  the  names  of  Worldly  (an 
obvious  perversion  of  Wortley),  Avidien,  Gripus,  etc. 
The  carelessness  of  Lady  Mary's  dress  is  sometimes 
alluded  to,  and  she  is  obliquely  charged  with  profligacy 
under  the  title  of  Sappho.  Her  troubles  with  Remond 
and  Lady  Mar  are  included  in  a  double-barrelled 
allusion  in  the  couplet, 

"  And  at  a  peer  or  peeress  shall  1  fret, 
Who  starves  a  sister,  or  denies  a  debt  ?" 

as  Horace  Walpole  carefully  explains. 

All  these  attacks  may  easily  have  disgusted  Lady 
Mary  with  English  society  and  England.  The  Court 
of  George  H.,  sordid  without  economy  and  dull  without 
virtue,  was  hardly  an  attractive  scene  for  a  woman  of 
intellect.  Edward  Wortley  Montagu,  while  a  sound 
Whig,  was  always  hostile  to  the  all-powerful  Walpole, 
and,  indeed,  led  some  of  the  fierce  attacks  on  him  when 
his  credit  was  waning.  The  marriage  of  Lady  Mary's 
daughter  to  the  Earl  of  Bute,  Groom  of  the  Stole  to 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  then  to  his  son,  and 
afterwards  the  favourite  Minister  of  George  HL,  must 
have  tended  still  further  to  connect  the  mother  with 
the  Opposition,  and  may  help  to  account  for  the  indif- 
ference that  she  afterwards  displayed  to  the  great 
victories  of  the  Seven  Years'  War.  There  was  now 
nothing  left  to  occupy  her  attention  in  England ;  her 
daughter  was  married,  the  care  of  her  sister  given  up, 

2 — 2 


20  Introductory   Sketch 

her  son,  after  a  youth  of  folly  and  vice,  had  ruined  his 
career  by  marrying  in  the  Pleet  a  woman  of  low  life  (a 
washerwoman,  the  scandalous  memoir  calls  her),  who 
was  too  cunning  to  give  him  a  pretext  for  divorce.  He 
usually  resided  abroad,  too,  so  that  there  were  no 
duties  to  keep  Lady  Mary  at  home.  Her  husband  and 
she,  though  all  their  letters  seem  to  prove  that  they 
retained  their  respect  and  affection  for  each  other, 
seem  to  have  found  their  tastes  and  ways  incompatible ; 
and  it  is  possible  that  Edward  Wortley  Montagu  keenly 
felt  the  unenviable  notoriety  w^hich  Pope  had  bestowed 
on  him  merely  because  his  wife  and  Pope  had 
quarrelled. 

Lady  Mary  was  fifty  years  old  when,  in  1739,  she 
determined  to  go  abroad  for  a  lengthened  residence ; 
and  she  did  not  return  to  England  till  she  came  back, 
in  1762,  to  die.  It  is  these  twenty-two  or  twenty-three 
years  that  form  the  most  interesting  part  of  Lady  Mary's 
life  to  later  times.  Her  letters  from  the  East  are  too 
laboured,  too  plainly  "doctored"  for  the  public;  her 
letters  to  Lady  Mar  are  too  full  of  petty  gossip.  The 
later  correspondence,  mostly  with  her  daughter.  Lady 
Bute,  is  both  worthier  in  subjects  and  more  natural  in 
tone. 

In  leaving  for  the  Continent,  Lady  Mary  apparently 
expected  her  husband  to  follow  her.  He  was  detained, 
however,  by  business,  and  she  went  on  her  way  alone ; 
and  gradually,  whether  by  mutual  understanding  or  by 
the  mere  effect  of  time  and  habit,  all  thought  of  their 
meeting  again  was  given  up.     Mr.  Wortley  Montagu 


Introdttctory  Sketch  2 1 

often  wrote  to  his  wife  in  terms  that  imply  that  she 
still  enjoyed  his  full  confidence ;  he  entrusted  her  with 
the  task  of  seeing  her  son,  trying  to  reclaim  him,  and 
furnishing  him  with  the  necessary  funds ;  but  though 
he  left  England  twice  on  journeys,  he  never  saw  his 
wife  again.  Occasional  glimpses  of  him  and  his  son 
are  to  be  caught  from  the  letters  of  Horace  Walpole, 
who,  however,  saw  the  whole  family  with  unfriendly 
eyes.  The  elder  Wortley  Montagu  he  depicts  as  a 
morose  miser,  with  no  indulgence  but  his  daily  glass 
of  tokay,  hoarding  ''  money  and  health "  with  such 
success  that  he  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-three  worth 
half  a  million.  The  son,  a  weak  and  worthless  fellow, 
had  and  misused  every  advantage.  He  sat  for  some 
years  for  the  family  seat  of  Huntingdon ;  was  put  in 
prison  in  Paris  for  a  discreditable  gambling  affair ;  was 
chosen  a  member  of  the  Royal  Society  on  the  strength 
of  a  curious  iron  wig ;  outlived  both  parents,  and  came 
into  ;f  2,000  a  year ;  travelled  in  the  East,  and  sent 
home  an  account  of  the  Written  Mountains  of  Sinai ; 
adopted  Armenian  dress,  married  many  wives,  turned 
Roman  Catholic,  turned  Mohammedan,  and  finally 
died,  in  1776,  at  Padua. 

In  the  summer  of  1739,  then,  Lady  Mary  went 
abroad.  Avoiding  Paris,  she  journeyed  through  Dijon 
and  Turin  to  Venice.  Next  summer  she  set  out  for 
Florence,  where  she  met  her  friend  Lady  Pomfret,  also 
Lady  Walpole,  wife  of  Sir  Robert's  eldest  son.  Horace 
Walpole  met  her  there,  and  gives  a  picture  of  her  which 
seems  to  have  some  truth,  though  a  good  deal  of  spite. 


oo 


Introdtictory  Sketch 


"  Did  I  tell  you,"  he  writes  to  Conway,  "  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  is  here  ?  She  laughs  at  my  Lady  Walpole, 
scolds  my  Lady  Pomfret,  and  is  laughed  at  by  the 
whole  town.  Her  dress,  her  avarice,  and  her  im- 
pudence must  amuse  anyone  that  never  heard  her 
name.  She  wears  a  foul  mob  that  does  not  cover 
her  greasy  black  locks,  that  hang  loose,  never  combed 
or  curled ;  an  old  mazarine  blue  wrapper,  that  gapes 
open  and  discovers  a  canvas  petticoat.  Her  face 
swelled  violently  on  one  side,  partly  covered  with  a 
plaister,  and  partly  with  white  paint,  which  for  cheap- 
ness she  has  bought  so  coarse  that  you  would  not  use 
it  to  wash  a  chimney." 

From  Florence  she  went  to  Rome,  visited  Naples, 
and  returned  through  Rome,  Leghorn,  and  Genoa  to 
Chambery  in  Savoy.  The  outbreak  of  the  War  of  the 
Austrian  Succession  in  Italy,  and  Sardinia's  resolve  to 
take  the  side  of  Maria  Theresa,  made  her  fear  a  French 
invasion,  and  she  removed  to  Avignon,  then,  and  until 
the  French  Revolution,  a  Papal  possession.  After  a 
journey  to  Valence  to  see  her  son,  she  settled  down  at 
Avignon  for  four  years.  The  declaration  of  war  be- 
tween France  and  England,  and  still  more  the  influx 
of  Jacobites  into  Avignon  after  the  insurrection  of 
1745,  made  the  place  disagreeable  to  her.  She  deter- 
mined to  betake  herself  to  the  dominions  of  almost  the 
only  civilized  neutral  state  in  Europe — Venice.  Her 
journey  was  not  free  from  peril ;  she  went  by  Genoa, 
and  outside  that  city  met  the  retreating  army  of  the 
Infante  Don  Philip,  whose  troops,  with  their  French 


Introductory  Sketch  23 

allies,  had  been  beaten  at  Piacenza  by  the  Austrians 
and  Sardinians.  Lady  Mary  pushed  on  through  both 
armies,  and  reached  Brescia  in  safety,  but  while  stay- 
ing with  the  mother  of  Count  Palazzo,  the  Italian  noble- 
man who  had  escorted  her  thither,  she  was  seized  by 
severe  illness  and  had  to  remain  in  their  house  for  some 
time.  It  seems  possible,  from  a  legal  document  in 
Italian,  which  Lord  Wharncliffe  says  he  saw  among 
Lady  Mary's  papers,  that  either  from  officious  friend- 
ship or  desire  for  gain,  this  detention  was  continued 
longer  than  she  desired  ;  and  though  it  was  not  for  long, 
it  gave  rise  to  a  scandalous  story,  eagerly  gathered  by 
Horace  Walpole,  of  her  having  been  detained  by  some 
Italian  lover,  determined  to  secure  her  wealth.  The 
rumour  seems  to  have  been  widely  spread,  and  to  have 
lasted  long,  for  when  Lady  Mary  came  to  Venice  in 
1756,  I  find  the  English  Minister  there,  Mr.  Murra}^ 
writing  home :  "  She  has  been  for  some  years  past, 
and  still  continues,  in  the  hands  of  a  Brescian  Count, 
who,  it  is  said,  plunders  her  of  all  her  riches."  There 
seems,  however,  no  foundation  in  fact  for  this  view  of 
the  incident. 

In  the  summer  of  1747  Lady  Mary  went  to  Lovere, 
a  little  place  on  the  north  shore  of  Lake  Iseo,  famed  for 
its  medicinal  waters.  Here  she  hired  and  then  bought 
outright  for  a  hundred  pounds  an  old  *'  shell  of  a 
palace,"  which  she  partly  repaired  and  fitted  up  as  a 
residence,  and  in  which  she  led  a  retired  life,  amusing 
herself  with  a  dairy,  a  poultry-yard,  silkworms,  bees,  and 
the  English  novels  of  the  day,  forwarded  to  her  by  Lady 


24  hiirodtictory  Sketch 

Bute.  She  wrote  often  to  her  husband  and  daughter, 
hearing  from  them  sometimes  details  of  the  society  she 
still  remembered.  In  particular,  she  was  interested 
in  the  works  of  Richardson  and  her  cousin  Henry 
Fielding. 

She  paid  brief  visits  to  places  in  the  neighbourhood. 
At  Gotolengo  she  stayed  some  time,  but  \\'as  recalled 
to  the  healing  streams  of  Lovere  by  illness.  In  1756  she 
moved  to  Padua,  and  between  this  city  and  Venice  she 
spent  the  next  few  years.  Her  peace  was  troubled  by 
the  persecutions  of  Mr.  Murra}',  the  British  Minister  at 
Venice.  I  hare  not  been  able  to  discover  from  his 
despatches  the  reason  for  this  quarrel ;  but  his  first 
notice  of  Lady  Mary  seems  to  show  that  he  thought 
badly  of  her,  and  her  first  description  of  him  is  as  "  such 
a  scandalous  fellow,  in  every  sense  of  that  w^ord,  he  is 
not  to  be  trusted  to  change  a  sequin,  despised  by  the 
Government  for  his  smuggling,  which  was  his  original 
profession."  So  perhaps  the  quarrel  was  ready-made. 
Sir  James  Steuart,  of  Coltness,  the  economist,  then  an 
exile  through  his  share  in  the  '45,  came  to  Venice  wath 
his  wife,  and  both  formed  a  warm  friendship  w^ith  Lady 
Mary,  who  exerted  her  influence  with  Lord  Bute  to 
get  Sir  James  recalled.  Murray,  who  seems  from  his 
despatches  to  have  been  nervously  anxious  not  to  com- 
promise himself,  refused  to  receive  Sir  James,  and 
apparently  thought  Lady  Mary  a  dangerous  character 
for  associating  with  the  Steuarts. 

In  1761  came  the  news  of  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu's 
death,   and    Lady    Mary   resolved,   at    her   daughter's 


Introductory  Sketch  25 

request,  to  return  to  England  to  help  in  the  settle- 
ment of  his  affairs.  He  had  left  his  widow  ^1,200 
a  year,  with  reversion  to  her  son,  and  ;f  1,000  a  year  to 
the  son ;  the  rest  of  his  large  fortune  went  to  Lady 
Bute.  In  a  hard  winter,  and  herself  already  smitten 
with  an  incurable  disease.  Lady  Mary  journeyed  to 
England  through  Germany  and  Holland,  France  being 
still  at  war  with  England.  In  January,  1762,  she 
arrived,  and  Horace  Walpole  gives  a  lively  and  spite- 
ful account  of  his  meeting  with  her.  ''  But  I  will  tell 
you  who  is  come  too — Lady  Mary  Wortley.  I  went 
last  night  to  visit  her  ;  I  give  you  my  honour,  and  you, 
who  know  me,  would  credit  me  without  it,  the  follow- 
ing is  a  faithful  description.  I  found  her  in  a  little 
miserable  bedchamber  of  a  ready-furnished  house,  with 
two  tallow  candles,  and  a  bureau  covered  with  pots  and 
pans.  On  her  head,  in  full  of  all  accounts,  she  had  an 
old  black-laced  hood,  wrapped  entirely  round,  so  as  to 
conceal  all  hair  or  want  of  hair.  No  handkerchief,  but 
up  to  her  chin  a  kind  of  horseman's  coat,  made  of  a 
dark  green  (green  I  think  it  had  been)  brocade,  with 
coloured  and  silver  flowers,  and  lined  with  furs ;  bodice 
laced,  a  foul  dimity  petticoat  sprig'd,  velvet  muffeteens 
on  her  arms,  gray  stockings  and  slippers.  Her  face 
less  changed  in  twenty  years  than  I  could  have  im- 
agined ;  I  told  her  so,  and  she  was  not  so  tolerable 
twenty  years  ago  that  she  needed  have  taken  it  for 
flattery,  but  she  did,  and  literally  gave  me  a  box  on  the 
ear.  She  is  very  lively,  all  her  senses  perfect,  her  lan- 
guage as  imperfect  as  ever,  her  avarice  greater.     She 


26  Introductory  Sketch 

receives  all  the  world,  who  go  to  homage  her  as  Queen 
Mother,  and  crams  them  into  this  kennel."' 

Horace  Walpole  seems  to  have  imagined  that  Lady 
Mary  would  try  to  make  use  of  her  position  as  mother- 
in-law  of  George  III.'s  favourite  Minister,  but  he  was 
mistaken ;  and  though  he  apprehended  all  kinds  of 
troubles  from  her  interference  with  Lady  Bute,  he  was 
compelled  later  on  to  admit  that  "  she  is  much  more 
discreet  than  I  expected,  and  meddles  with  nothing." 
Indeed,  knowing  that  she  was  dying.  Lady  Mary  could 
hardly  have  brought  herself  to  take  much  interest  in 
affairs.  It  was  soon  known  that  she  had  cancer  in  the 
breast.  '^She  behaves  with  great  fortitude,"  writes 
Walpole,  '' and  says  she  has  lived  long  enough."  She 
died  in  London,  on  August  21st,  1762,  over  seventy- 
three  years  of  age.  By  her  will,  one  or  two  remem- 
brances were  left  to  friends,  legacies  to  servants,  and 
the  rest  of  her  separate  property,  not  much  in  amount, 
to  her  daughter.  To  her  son,  who  seems  to  have 
caused  her  sorrow  to  the  end,  she  left  one  guinea  ;  but, 
by  her  husband's  will,  her  income  went  to  him  on  her 
death. 

Her  letters  had  a  curious  fate,  and  their  history  is 
hardly  less  complicated  than  that  of  Pope's  correspond- 
ence. She  undoubtedly  prepared  for  publication  those 
written  during  the  Embassy,  and  they  had  been  in 
existence  in  manuscript  ever  since  1724,  which  is  the 
date  of  Mrs.  Mary  Astell's  first  gushing  preface.  Yet 
they  were  known  only  to  a  few  friends  ;  and  Horace 
Walpole    had    not    seen    them,    though    he    had    been 


rntrodiictory  Sketch  27 

allowed  to  read  some  of  the  letters  to  Lady  Mar.  Oq 
her  last  journey  to  England,  Lady  Mary  was  delayed 
at  Rotterdam,  and  while  there  seems  to  have  given 
two  volumes  of  manuscript,  containing  the  "Turkish 
Letters,"  to  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Sowden,  an  English 
clergyman,  at  Rotterdam.  The  fact  of  the  gift  is 
confirmed  by  an  inscription  on  the  first  volume,  in 
Lady  Mary's  hand,  dated  December  11,  1761.  Lady 
Bute,  hearing,  after  her  mother's  death,  that  some  of 
her  letters  were  in  the  hands  of  a  stranger,  desired  to 
get  them  into  her  own  hands.  Horace  Walpole  hoped 
that  she  would  not  succeed.  ''  Though  I  do  not 
doubt,"  he  writes,  ''but  they"  (the  letters)  "are  an 
olio  of  lies  and  scandal,  I  should  like  to  see  them. 
She  had  parts,  and  had  seen  much."  Eventually  Mr. 
Sowden  gave  up  the  volumes,  whether  freely,  as  his 
friends  said,  or  for  ;f  500,  as  Lady  Louisa  Stuart  says, 
or  for  a  Crown  living ;  and  in  1763  these  very  letters 
appeared  in  three  volumes,  with  Mary  Astell's  two 
prefaces  and  a  note  by  the  editor^  who  is  said  to  have 
been  John  Cleland,  a  man  notorious  as  an  editor  and 
fabricator  of  the  correspondence  of  noted  persons. 
Naturally  Sowden  was  charged  with  bad  faith,  though 
not,  it  seems,  justly;  for  Mr.  Moy  Thomas  assures  us 
that  the  edition  of  1763  agrees  not  with  the  Sowden 
manuscript  (which  does  not  contain  the  prefaces),  but 
with  another  copy,  given  by  Lady  Mary  to  Mr.  Moles- 
worth.  However,  it  is  not  impossible  that  the  editor 
was  telling  the  truth  when  he  informed  his  readers  that 
his  selection  was  "  transcribed  from  the  original  manu- 


2  8  Introductory  Sketch 

script  of  her  ladyship  at  Venice."  Another  volume  of 
letters,  attributed  to  Lady  Mary,  came  out  in  1767, 
but  these  are  probably  fabrications  of  Cleland's  own  ; 
for  though  Lady  Bute  accepted  them  as  genuine  on 
the  strength  of  their  style  alone,  yet  their  similarity  to 
the  authentic  letters  does  not  seem  beyond  the  reach 
of  a  practised  literary  forger.  No  originals  of  the 
letters  of  1767  have  ever  come  to  hand  ;  and  it  is 
perhaps  unfortunate  that  the  lady  known  in  letters  as 
Camille  Selden,  in  her  study  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley 
Montagu,  has  been  misled  by  Lord  Wharncliffe's 
uncritical  acceptance  into  quoting  as  especially  charac- 
teristic some  of  these  very  letters. 

The  '*  Letters  from  the  Levant,"  as  they  were 
often  called,  were  popular;  and  eventually  the  family 
of  Lady  Mary  resolved  to  give  a  further  instalment 
to  the  world,  and  employed  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dallaway 
as  editor.  In  1S03  appeared  his  volumes,  containing 
the  bulk  of  the  Letters  now  known  to  the  public,  but 
altered  and  arranged  in  an  arbitrary  fashion,  and 
preceded  by  a  memoir  really  remarkable  for  its  absence 
of  accurate  information.  Even  as  Dallaway  left  them, 
however,  the  Letters  proved  interesting,  and  several 
editions  were  called  for ;  the  fifth,  in  1805,  contained 
a  number  of  additional  letters.  In  1S37  Lord  Wharn- 
cliffe  edited  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu's  Letters 
and  Works,  in  three  volumes,  preceded  by  Dallaway 's 
memoir,  and  an  interesting  series  of  introductory 
anecdotes,  by  Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  grand-daughter 
of   Lady    Mary.      Finally,    in    1S61,  appeared    a    new 


Iiitrodtictory  Sketch  29 

edition  of  Lord  Wharncliffe's  selection,  completely  re- 
edited  by  Mr.  W.  Moy  Thomas  from  the  Wortley 
papers ;  and  it  is  unlikely  that  any  further  editor  will 
find  anything  of  importance  to  add  to  his  careful  and 
thorough  work.  Besides  her  Letters  and  compositions 
in  prose  and  verse,  Lady  Mary  left  behind  her  a 
voluminous  Diary,  the  earlier  part  of  which  was  read 
by  Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  who  gives  some  interesting 
details  about  it.  But  this  Diary — recording  as  it  did 
the  events,  rumours,  and  scandals  of  every  day — was 
thought  too  likely  to  make  trouble  if  published ;  and 
accordingly  Lady  Bute  destroyed  it  shortly  before  her 
own  death,  in  1794.  How  far  the  loss  is  a  serious  one 
it  is  impossible  to  judge ;  but  I  should  conjecture  that 
most  probably  the  Diary,  where  it  contained  full 
descriptions  of  events  or  places,  was  drawn  upon  for 
the  Letters,  and  that  we  have  the  cream  of  the  journal 
in  the  correspondence. 

Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu's  character  is  depicted 
too  plainly  in  her  Letters  to  stand  in  need  of  much 
comment  or  explanation.  No  doubt  the  rumours  and 
traditions  that  have  depicted  her  as  a  sort  of  modern 
Sappho,  a  woman  of  extraordinary  intellect  and  still 
more  extraordinary  shamelessness,  a  strolling  Semi- 
ramis,  are  more  striking  and  melodramatic  than  the 
rather  humdrum  details  told  in  the  Letters ;  but  it  is 
the  misfortune  of  true  history  to  be  hardly  ever  com- 
pletely romantic,  and  but  seldom  as  scandalous  as  we 
would  fain  think  it.  The  aspersions  on  Lady  Mary's 
morality  have    no   other  visible    foundation    than    the 


30  Introductory  Sketch 

malignity  of  Pope  or  the  spiteful  gossip  of  Horace 
Walpole ;  and  the  latter  was  at  least  as  ready  to 
believe  ill  reports  of  Lady  Mary  as  the  former  to 
invent  or  aggravate  them.  The  somewhat  coarse 
freedom  of  expression  in  some  of  her  letters  is  merely 
the  tone  of  her  time — a  time  when  a  fastidious  invalid 
like  Pope  wrote  letters  glowing  with  apparent  passion 
or  deeply  tainted  with  grossness,  to  ladies  of  un- 
blemished fame,  and  was  not  even  thought  to  have 
failed  in  courtesy  or  respect.  The  fact  seems  to  have 
been  that  Lady  Mary,  like  many  of  the  men  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  had  developed  the  intellectual  and 
practical  side  of  her  nature  at  the  expense  of  the 
emotions.  There  is  no  proof  that  she  w^as  ever  in  love 
with  anyone  but  her  husband  ;  and  her  affection  for 
him  began  in  intellectual  companionship,  and  consisted 
to  a  considerable  extent  in  respect,  with  a  touch  of 
fear.  Her  love-letters  are  full  of  business  details, 
plain  speaking,  and  close  reasoning.  Her  lover  gives 
her  up  rather  than  violate  his  principles  as  to  marriage 
settlements,  and  she  heartily  approves  him.  All  this 
is  very  sensible,  but  it  is  hardly  the  note  of  passion, 
even  allowing  for  the  undemonstrative  character  of 
the  age.  Family  affection  was  not  strongl}^  deve- 
loped in  Lady  Mary  :  her  father's  death  leaves  little 
impression  on  her.  He  had  neglected  her;  why  should 
she  mourn  for  him  ?  Her  religion,  again,  was  the 
Whig  Christianity  of  the  day,  the  moderately 
rationalistic,  tolerant  half -deism  of  the  Georgian 
Bishops  :  she  never  speaks  but  with  contempt  of  past 


Introductory  Sketch  31 

mystics  or  present  Methodists.  Patriotism  had  Httle 
hold  on  her  —  she  was  cosmopoHtan ;  and  though 
English  defeats  galled  her  a  little,  English  victories 
left  her  cold.  All  her  failings — coarseness  of  phrase, 
coldness  of  feeling,  want  of  consideration  in  the  use  of 
her  wit,  even  the  slovenliness  of  dress  into  which  she 
fell — are  the  faults  of  a  nature  too  merely  intellectual. 
One  may  say  that  she  was  all  her  days  a  traveller, 
regarding  the  world  of  life  as  she  did  the  lands  through 
which  she  journeyed.  The  joys  of  existence  were  but 
the  chance  of  a  fine  day,  or  a  good  inn  on  the  road ; 
its  griefs  but  the  breaking  of  a  wheel,  the  discomfort 
of  a  hovel — all  alike  to  be  borne  with  quietly,  because 
they  would  be  gone  and  almost  forgotten  to-morrow. 
Friends,  relations  even,  were  but  travelling-companions 
— here  to-day,  gone  to-morrow.  A  trashy  novel  was 
just  as  good  as  a  grave  and  instructive  work;  the 
former  served  to  while  away  a  tedious  hour  of  the 
long  journey,  and  the  latter  could  do  no  more. 

Madame  Camille  Selden  speaks  of  Lady  Mary's  life 
as  a  failure,  and  blames  her,  or  at  least  deplores  her  for 
having  neglected  her  womanly  duties  to  please  herself 
in  isolation  and  independence.  Yet,  what  mission  was 
therefor  her  to  adopt,  what  duties  to  perform  at  home? 
Her  son  had  proved  himself  irreclaimably  vicious,  and 
— what  she  probably  despised  far  more — irredeemably 
weak  ;  her  daughter  was  happily  married.  She  was 
long  past  the  age  of  beauty  and  social  success,  and  her 
name  was  soiled  by  the  attacks  of  the  first  poet  of  the 
time.     Her   husband    apparently   could    get    on    best 


-2  2  hitroductory  Sketch 


o- 


without  her,  as  he  and  she  ahke  seem  to  have  reahzed 
with  the  merciless  good  sense  they  had  in  common. 
Doubtless,  with  her  talents,  her  wealth,  her  position, 
she  might  have  been  the  leading  spirit  of  some  social 
reform,  some  political  change,  some  religious  move- 
ment ;  but  to  engage  in  any  of  these  enterprises  she 
must  have  changed  her  temperament,  and  ceased  to  be 
the  Lady  Mary  that  we  know — a  change  that  might 
conceivably  have  been  very  much  for  the  worse.  Of 
philanthropists,  past  and  present,  we  have  great  plenty, 
many  of  them  fulfilling  the  cynical  definition  by  "doing 
good  that  evil  may  come  " — but  of  letter-writers  whose 
letters  bear  reading,  not  many.  Lady  Mary  in  her  last 
twenty  years  of  lonely  travel  at  least  entertained 
herself  and  her  correspondents,  and  hurt  no  one  in 
particular ;  and  if  she  did  not  found  a  church  or 
inaugurate  a  movement,  she  wrote  some  charming 
letters,  and  taught  the  country-folk  by  Lake  Iseo  how 
to  make  good  butter  and  mince-pies,  also  cheese-cakes, 
so  that  they  would  have  set  up  her  statue  as  that  of  a 
public  benefactress,  but  she  declined  the  honour.  This 
is  something  to  have  done,  and  not  a  little,  as  the 
average  of  human  achievement  goes ;  even  though  her 
arts  of  persuasion  could  not  bend  North  Italian  ortho- 
doxy to  approve  of  the  "unnatural  mixture"  known  as 
"  sillabub." 

About  the  style  of  the  letters  of  Lady  Mary  it  is  not 
necessary  to  say  much.  Her  work  speaks  for  itself. 
We  have  it  on  the  testimony  of  her  relations  that  she 
wrote  with  ease  and  fluency,  never  having  occasion  to 


Inti'oductory  Sketch  33 

wait  for  words  or  exercise  careful  revision.  About 
grammar  and  spelling  she  was  no  more  careful  than 
other  writers  of  her  time  ;  but  her  deviations  from 
strict  rule  have  still  an  ease  and  good  breeding  which  lift 
them  out  of  the  category  of  vulgar  blunders.  The  dis- 
tinguished and  elegant  carelessness  of  past  times  was 
far  removed  from  the  ignoble  lapses  of  modern  cheap 
novelists  and  pushing  journalists,  who  write  ''  different 
to  "  and  spell  Sphinx  with  a  y.  Yet,  while  disdaining 
elaboration  or  pedantic  accuracy  of  style,  Lady  Mary 
never  forgot  that  she  was  writings  nor,  apparently,  that 
what  she  wrote  might  be  seen  by  after  generations. 
She  seldom,  if  ever,  talks  on  paper.  There  is  little 
tenderness  or  playfulness  in  her  style.  Kind  and 
affectionate  as  are  her  letters  to  her  daughter,  their 
prevailing  note  is  good  sense,  clear  reasoning.  Seem- 
ingly incapable  of  very  strong  emotion,  Lady  Mary 
repressed  with  a  truly  English  thoroughness  what 
emotion  she  felt,  and  rather  than  yield  to  what  she 
considered  a  weakness  (''sentiments,"  she  "says,  ''are 
extreme  silly  "),  affected  a  cold  and  stoical  indifference 
which  she  did  not  always  feel.  In  this,  as  in  other 
respects,  she  was  of  her  time — the  first  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  Not  till  after  her  death  began  the 
time  of  vague  aspirations,  of  questioning  discontent,  of 
unrest  and  unsettlement,  of  theories  and  philosophies, 
of  cosmopolitan  and  humanitarian  ideas — the  time 
which  ended  in  the  French  Revolution.  Lady  Mary 
lived  under  the  reign  of  Sense,  not  yet  dethroned  by 
Sensibility. 

3 


34  Early  Life  and  Marriage 


CHAPTER  II 

EARLY    LIFE    AND    MARRIAGE 

Letters  without  Dates — Letters  to  Mrs.  Hewet  —  The  "New 
Atalantis" — NicoHni — Letters  to  Anne  Wortley— Lady  Mary's 
Studies — Edward  Wortley  as  the  "Cambridge  Doctor" — In- 
direct Love-making — Death  of  Anne  Wortley  —  Correspond- 
ence with  Edward  Wortley — Strange  Courtship — Trouble  over 
Settlements — Ideal  of  Happiness — Paternal  Despotism — The 
Elopement — Stay  at  Walling  Wells — Old  Letters— Proclamation 
of  George  I. — Standing  for  Parliament — The  New  Court  — 
George  I.  and  his  Son — Lady  Mary's  Adventure  with  Mr.  Craggs. 

The  letters  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  are  often 
difficult  to  identify,  nor  is  it  always  easy  to  tell  to 
whom  or  when  they  were  sent.  In  her  time  the  post- 
office  was  far  from  safe,  even  in  England  ;  in  other 
countries,  especially  in  time  of  wars  and  rumours  of 
wars,  it  was  almost  the  exception  for  a  letter  to  get 
through.  Hence  comes  a  practice  of  leaving  letters 
unsigned,  and  alluding  to  persons  by  initials  only, 
which  is  at  times  troublesome  to  modern  readers;  and 
even  more  vexatious  is  Lady  Mary's  habit  of  omitting 
to  date  her  letters — a  defect  which  she  seems  to  have 
transmitted  to  her  descendants  and  her  first  editors, 
since  neither  Lord  Wharncliffe  nor  Mr.  Dallawayknew 


Early  Life   and  Marriage  35 

the  year  of  her  birth.  The  earliest  letters  which  we 
can  date  are  to  Mrs.  Hewet,  wife  of  the  Surveyor- 
General  to  George  I.,  and  to  Anne,  sister  of  Edward 
Wortley.  The  letters  to  Mrs.  Hewet  are  of  com- 
paratively slight  interest.  They  turn  mostly  on  the 
books  which  the  two  friends  sent  to  each  other— novels 
chiefly,  and  novels  of  the  day,  for  which  Lady  Mary 
always  had  an  unlimited  appetite.  Mrs.  Manley's 
*'  New  Atalantis  "  is  the  chief  of  them. 

*'  I  am  very  glad,"  Lady  Mary  writes,  ''you  have  the 
second  part  of  the  *  New  Atalantis  ':  if  you  have  read  it, 
will  you  be  so  good  as  to  send  it  to  me?  and  in  return,  I 
promise  to  get  you  the  key  to  it.  I  know  I  can.  But 
do  you  know  what  has  happened  to  the  unfortunate 
authoress  ?  People  are  offended  at  the  liberty  she 
uses  in  her  memoirs,  and  she  is  taken  into  custody. 
Miserable  is  the  fate  of  writers  :  if  they  are  agreeable, 
they  are  offensive  ;  and  if  dull,  they  starve.  I  lament 
the  loss  of  the  other  parts  which  we  should  have  had  ; 
and  have  five  hundred  arguments  at  my  fingers'  ends 
to  prove  the  ridiculousness  of  those  creatures  that 
think  it  worth  while  to  take  notice  of  what  is  only 
designed  for  diversion.  After  this,  who  will  dare  to 
give  the  history  of  Angella  ?  I  was  in  hopes  her  faint 
essay  would  have  provoked  some  better  pen  to  give 
more  elegant  and  secret  memoirs ;  but  now  she  will 
serve  as  a  scarecrow  to  frighten  people  from  attempt- 
ing anything  but  heavy  panegyric  ;  and  wx  shall  be 
teazed  with  nothing  but  heroic  poems,  with  names  at 
length,  and    false  characters,  so  daubed  with  flattery, 


36  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

that  they  are  the  severest  kind  of  lampoons,  for  they 
both  scandaHze  the  writer  and  the  subject,  hke  that 
vile  paper  the  Tatlev.'" 

Yet  again  we  find  Lady  Mary  studying  Italian, 
going  to  the  opera,  seeing  "  Nicolini  strangle  a  lion 
with  great  gallantry"  (as  inimitably  ridiculed  in  the 
Spectator),  in  a  highly  realistic  suit  of  tights,  "  which 
convinced  me  that  those  prudes  who  would  cry  fie  ! 
fie  !  at  the  word  naked,  have  no  scruples  about  the 
thing." 

The  letters  to  Anne  Wortley  are,  from  the  outset, 
more  serious.  Beginning  with  the  exaggerations  of 
girl-friendship,  they  soon  pass  into  that  veiled  and 
indirect  love-making  which  was  mentioned  before. 
Anne  Wortley's  first  printed  letter  refers  to  "an  humble 
servant  of  yours,  who  is  arguing  so  hotly  about 
marriage  that  I  cannot  go  on  with  my  letter." 

The  answer  seems  written  in  breathless  haste. 
Evidently  the  post  was  at  its  tricks  again.  ''  I  shall 
run  mad — with  what  heart  can  people  write,  when 
they  believe  their  letters  will  never  be  received  ?  I 
have  already  writ  you  a  very  long  scrawl,  but  it 
seems  it  never  came  to  your  hands ;  I  cannot  bear  to 
be  accused  of  coldness  by  one  whom  I  shall  love  all  my 
life.  This  will,  perhaps,  miscarry  as  the  last  did  ;  how 
unfortunate  am  I  if  it  does !  You  will  think  I  forget 
30U,  who  are  never  out  of  my  thoughts.  You  will 
fancy  me  stupid  enough  to  neglect  your  letters,  when 
they  are  the  only  pleasures  of  my  solitude ;  in  short, 
you   will   call    me   ungrateful   and    insensible,   when   I 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  37 

esteem  3'ou  as  I  ought,  in  esteeming  you  above  all  the 
world.  If  I  am  not  quite  so  unhappy  as  I  imagine, 
and  you  do  receive  this,  let  me  know  it  as  soon  as  you 
can ;  for  till  then  I  shall  be  in  terrible  uneasiness ;  and 
let  me  beg  you  for  the  future,  if  you  do  not  receive 
letters  very  constantly  from  me,  imagine  the  post-boy 
killed,  imagine  the  mail  burnt,  or  some  other  strange 
accident ;  you  can  imagine  nothing  so  impossible  as 
that  I  forget  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Wortley.  I  know  no 
pretence  I  have  to  your  good  opinion  but  my  hearty 
desiring  it ;  I  wish  I  had  that  imagination  you  talk  of, 
to  render  me  a  fitter  correspondent  for  you,  who  can 
write  so  well  on  every  thing.  I  am  now  so  much 
alone,  I  have  leisure  to  pass  whole  days  in  reading, 
but  am  not  at  all  proper  for  so  delicate  an  employment 
as  choosing  you  books.  Your  own  fancy  will  better 
direct  you.  My  study  at  present  is  nothing  but 
dictionaries  and  grammars.  I  am  trying  whether  it 
be  possible  to  learn  without  a  master ;  I  am  not  certain 
(and  dare  hardly  hope)  I  shall  make  any  great  progress; 
but  I  find  the  study  so  diverting,  I  am  not  only  easy, 
but  pleased  with  the  solitude  that  indulges  it.  I  forget 
there  is  such  a  place  as  London,  and  wish  for  no 
company  but  yours.  You  see,  my  dear,  in  making  my 
pleasures  consist  of  these  unfashionable  diversions,  I 
am  not  of  the  number  who  cannot  be  easy  out  of  the 
mode.  I  believe  more  follies  are  committed  out  of 
complaisance  to  the  world,  than  in  following  our  own 
inclinations — Nature  is  seldom  in  the  wrong,  custom 
always ;  it  is  with  some  regret   I  follow  it  in  all  the 


^S  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

impertinences  of  dress  ;  the  compliance  is  so  trivial  it 
comforts  me ;  but  I  am  amazed  to  see  it  consulted 
even  in  the  most  important  occasions  of  our  lives  ;  and 
that  people  of  good  sense  in  other  things  can  make 
their  happiness  consist  in  the  opinions  of  others,  and 
sacrifice  everything  in  the  desire  of  appearing  in 
fashion.  I  call  all  people  who  fall  in  love  with 
furniture,  clothes,  and  equipage,  of  this  number  and 
I  look  upon  them  as  no  less  in  the  wrong  than  when 
they  were  five  years  old,  and  doted  on  shells,  pebbles, 
and  hobby-horses :  I  believe  you  will  expect  this  letter 
to  be  dated  from  the  other  world,  for  sure  I  am  you 
never  heard  an  inhabitant  of  this  talk  so  before.  I 
suppose  you  expect,  too,  I  should  conclude  with 
begging  pardon  for  this  extreme  tedious  and  very 
nonsensical  letter ;  quite  contrary,  I  think  you  will  be 
obliged  to  me  for  it.  I  could  not  better  show  my 
great  concern  for  your  reproaching  me  with  neglect  I 
knew  myself  innocent  of,  than  proving  myself  mad  in 
three  pages." 

The  learned  designs  of  Lady  Mary  met  with  a 
flattering  rejoinder  from  xVnne  Wortley,  or  rather 
from  her  brother,  who,  it  is  needless  to  say,  was  the 
*'  Cambridge  Doctor." 

"Dear  Lady  Mary  will  pardon  my  vanity ;  I  could 
not  forbear  reading  to  a  Cambridge  Doctor  that  was 
with  me  at  Thoresby,  a  few  of  those  lines  that  did  not 
make  me  happy  till  this  week :  where  you  talk  of 
turning  over  dictionaries  and  grammars,  he  stopped 
me,  and  said  the  reason  why  you  had  more  wit  than 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  39 

any  man,  was  that  your  mind  had  never  been  en- 
cumbered with  those  tedious  authors ;  that  Cowley 
never  submitted  to  the  rules  of  grammar,  and  therefore 
excelled  all  of  his  own  time  in  learning,  as  well  as  wit ; 
that  without  them,  you  would  read  with  pleasure  in 
two  or  three  months ;  but  if  you  persisted  in  the  use 
of  them,  you  would  throw  away  your  Latin  after  a 
year  or  two,  and  the  commonwealth  would  have 
reason  to  mourn ;  whereas,  if  I  could  prevail  with  you, 
it  would  be  bound  to  thank  me  for  a  brighter  ornament 
than  any  it  can  boast  of." 

Gradually  Lady  Mary  was  drawn  on  further  by 
artful  hints  that  she  was  in  love  with  someone  or 
other,  which  she  repudiated  with  playful  scorn. 

**  After  giving  me  imaginary  wit  and  beauty,  you 
give  me  imaginary  passions,  and  you  tell  me  I'm  in 
love :  if  I  am,  'tis  a  perfect  sin  of  ignorance,  for  I  don't 
so  much  as  know  the  man's  name :  I  have  been  study- 
ing these  three  hours,  and  cannot  guess  who  you  mean. 
I  passed  the  days  of  Nottingham  races,  [at]  Thoresby, 
without  seeing  or  even  wishing  to  see  one  of  the  sex. 
Now,  if  I  am  in  love,  I  have  very  hard  fortune  to 
conceal  it  so  industriously  from  my  own  knowledge, 
and  yet  discover  it  so  much  to  other  people.  'Tis 
against  all  form  to  have  such  a  passion  as  that,  without 
giving  one  sigh  for  the  matter.  Pray  tell  me  the  name 
of  him  I  love,  that  I  may  (according  to  the  laudable 
custom  of  lovers)  sigh  to  the  woods  and  groves  here- 
abouts, and  teach  it  to  the  echo.  You  see,  being  I  am 
[szc]  in  love,  I  am  willing  to  be  so  in  order  and  rule :   I 


40  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

have  been  turning  over  God  knows  how  many  books  to 
look  for  precedents.  Recommend  an  example  to  me  ; 
and,  above  all,  let  me  know  whether  'tis  most  proper  to 
walk  in  the  woods,  increasing  the  winds  with  my  sighs, 
or  to  sit  by  a  purling  stream,  swelling  the  rivulet  with 
my  tears;   maybe,  both  may  do  well  in  their  turns." 

Then  Anne  Wortley  mentioned  the  suspected  lover, 
with  the  result  of  eliciting  an  incautious  avowal  from 
her  friend  :  ^^  To  be  capable  of  preferring  the  despicable 
wretch  you  mention  to  Mr.  Wortley,  is  as  ridiculous,  if 
not  as  criminal,  as  forsaking  the  Deity  to  worship  a 
calf" — which  was  exactly  the  result  for  which  Edward 
Wortley,  under  the  mask  of  his  sister,  had  been  playing. 
Anne  Wortley  must  have  died  towards  the  end  of  1709, 
for  in  the  spring  of  1710  comes  the  first  letter  Lady 
Mary  wrote  directly  to  her  lover. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  be  surprised  at  this  letter ;  I  have 
had  many  debates  with  myself  before  I  could  resolve 
on  it.  I  know  it  is  not  acting  in  form,  but  I  do  not 
look  upon  you  as  I  do  upon  the  rest  of  the  world,  and 
by  what  I  do  iox yoii,  you  are  not  to  judge  my  manner 
of  acting  with  others.  You  are  brother  to  a  woman  I 
tenderly  loved ;  my  protestations  of  friendship  are  not 
like  other  people's,  I  never  speak  but  what  I  mean, 
and  when  I  say  I  love,  'tis  for  ever.  I  had  that  real 
concern  for  Mrs.  Wortley,  I  look  with  some  regard  on 
every  one  that  is  related  to  her.  This  and  my  long 
acquaintance  with  you  may  in  some  measure  excuse 
what  I  am  now  doing.  I  am  surprised  at  one  of  the 
Tatlcrs  you  send  me ;  is  it  possible  to  have  any  sort 


EaiHy  Life  and  Marriage  41 

of  esteem  for  a  person  one  believes  capable  of  having 
such  trifling  inclinations?  Mr.  Bickerstaff*  has  very 
WTong  notions  of  our  sex.  I  can  say  there  are  some  of 
us  that  despise  charms  of  show,  and  all  the  pageantry 
of  greatness,  perhaps  with  more  ease  than  any  of  the 
philosophers.  In  contemning  the  world,  they  seem  to 
take  pains  to  contemn  it ;  we  despise  it,  without  taking 
the  pains  to  read  lessons  of  morality  to  make  us  do  it. 
At  least,  I  know  I  have  always  looked  upon  it  with 
contempt,  without  being  at  the  expense  of  one  serious 
reflection  to  oblige  me  to  it.  I  carry  the  matter  yet 
farther ;  was  I  to  choose  of  two  thousand  pounds  a 
year  or  twenty  thousand,  the  first  would  be  my  choice. 
There  is  something  of  an  unavoidable  embarras  in 
making  what  is  called  a  great  figure  in  the  world ;  [it] 
takes  off  from  the  happiness  of  life ;  I  hate  the  noise 
and  hurry  inseparable  from  great  estates  and  titles, 
and  look  upon  both  as  blessings  that  ought  only  to  be 
given  to  fools,  for  'tis  only  to  them  that  they  are 
blessings.  The  pretty  fellows  you  speak  of,  I  own 
entertain  me  sometimes ;  but  is  it  impossible  to  be 
diverted  with  what  one  despises  ?  I  can  laugh  at  a 
puppet-show  ;  at  the  same  time  I  know  there  is  nothing 
in  it  worth  my  attention  or  regard.  General  notions 
are  generally  wrong.  Ignorance  and  folly  are  thought 
the  best  foundations  for  virtue,  as  if  not  knowing  what 
a  good  wife  is  was  necessary  to  make  one  so.  I  confess 
that  can  never  be  my  way  of  reasoning ;  as  I  always 

*  Isaac  Bickerstaff  was  the  fictitious  personality  of  the  Tatle?'^ 
written  chiefly  by  Steele  and  Addison. 


42  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

forgive  an  iyvjury  when  I  think  it  not  done  out  of  malice, 
I  can  never  think  myself  obliged  by  what  is  done  without 
design.  Give  me  leave  to  say  it  (I  know  it  sounds 
vain),  I  know  how  to  make  a  man  of  sense  happy ;  but 
then  that  man  must  resolve  to  contribute  something 
towards  it  himself.  I  have  so  much  esteem  for  you,  I 
should  be  very  sorry  to  hear  you  was  unhappy ;  but  for 
the  world  I  would  not  be  the  instrument  of  making 
you  so ;  which  (of  the  humour  you  are)  is  hardly  to  be 
avoided  if  I  am  your  wife.  You  distrust  me — I  can 
neither  be  easy,  nor  loved,  where  I  am  distrusted. 
Nor  do  I  believe  your  passion  for  me  is  what  you 
pretend  it ;  at  least,  I  am  sure  was  I  in  love  I  could 
not  talk  as  you  do.  Few  women  would  have  spoke 
so  plainly  as  I  have  done  ;  but  to  dissemble  is  among 
the  things  I  never  do.  I  take  more  pains  to  approve 
my  conduct  to  myself  than  to  the  world ;  and  would 
not  have  to  accuse  myself  of  a  minute's  deceit.  I  wish 
I  loved  you  enough  to  devote  myself  to  be  for  ever 
miserable,  for  the  pleasure  of  a  day  or  two's  happiness. 
I  cannot  resolve  upon  it.  You  must  think  otherwise  of 
me,  or  not  at  all." 

However,  the  reasons  against  the  marriage  were  of 
little  moment ;  we  soon  find  Lady  Mary  discussing 
future  arrangements— of  course  in  a  purely  hypothet- 
ical way.  "  As  to  travelling,  ^tis  what  I  should  do  with 
great  pleasure,  and  could  easily  quit  London  upon  your 
account ;  but  a  retirement  in  the  country  is  not  so  dis- 
agreeable to  me,  as  I  know  a  few  months  would  make 
it  tiresome  to  you.     Where  people  are  tied  for  life,  'tis 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  43 

their  mutual  interest  not  to  grow  weary  of  one  another. 
If  I  had  all  the  personal  charms  that  I  want,  a  face  is 
too  slight  a  foundation  for  happiness.  You  would  be 
soon  tired  with  seeing  every  day  the  same  thing. 
Where  you  saw  nothing  else,  you  would  have  leisure 
to  remark  all  the  defects ;  which  would  increase  in  pro- 
portion as  the  novelty  lessened,  which  is  always  a  great 
charm.  I  should  have  the  displeasure  of  seeing  a  cold- 
ness, which,  though  I  could  not  reasonably  blame  you 
for,  being  involuntary,  yet  it  would  render  me  uneasy ; 
and  the  more  because  I  know  a  love  may  be  revived 
which  absence,  inconstancy,  or  even  infidelity,  has 
extinguished  ;  but  there  is  no  returning  from  a  dcgoiit 
given  by  satiety."  She  closes  by  recommending  him 
to  ask  her  family  to  consent  to  the  marriage. 

Edward  Wortley  Montagu  complied  with  the  sugges- 
tion, and  asked  the  Marquis  of  Dorchester  for  his 
daughter's  hand ;  but,  as  already  mentioned,  a  dis- 
agreement arose  over  the  settlement,  and  the  lover 
started  for  the  Continent.  He  seems  to  have  put  too 
much  of  his  disappointment  into  the  tone  of  his  parting 
letter,  to  judge  by  Lady  Mary's  reply : 

*'  Kindness,  you  say,  would  be  your  destruction.  In 
my  opinion,  this  is  something  contradictory  to  some 
other  expressions.  People  talk  of  being  in  love  just  as 
widows  do  of  afiiiction.  Mr.  Steele  has  observed,  in 
one  of  his  plays,  the  most  passionate  among  them  have 
always  calmness  enough  to  drive  a  hard  bargain  with 
the  upholders.*  I  never  knew  a  lover  that  would  not 
'"  /.  ^.,  the  undertakers. 


44  Early  Life  and  Mai'viage 

willingly  secure  his  interest  as  well  as  his  mistress ;  or, 
if  one  must  be  abandoned,  had  not  the  prudence  (among 
all  his  distractions)  to  consider,  a  woman  was  but  a 
woman,  and  money  was  a  thing  of  more  real  merit  than 
the  whole  sex  put  together.  Your  letter  is  to  tell  me, 
you  should  think  yourself  undone  if  you  married  me ; 
but  if  I  would  be  so  tender  as  to  confess  I  should  break 
my  heart  if  you  did  not,  then  you'd  consider  whether 
you  would  or  no;  but  yet  you  hoped  you  should-not. 
I  take  this  to  be  the  right  interpretation  of — even  your 
kindness  can't  destroy  me  of  a  sudden — I  hope  I  am 
not  in  your  power — I  would  give  a  good  deal  to  be 
satisfied,  etc." 

However,  her  natural  resentment  at  the  suspicion 
of  her  lover  did  not  last  long,  and  on  his  return  in  the 
autumn  of  1710  the  negotiations  were  to  be  resumed, 
as  we  see  from  the  following  letter : 

"  I  am  going  to  comply  with  your  request,  and  write 
with  all  the  plainness  I  am  capable  of.  I  know  what 
may  be  said  upon  such  a  proceeding,  but  am  sure  3'ou 
will  not  say  it.  Why  should  you  always  put  the  worst 
construction  upon  my  words  ?  Believe  me  what  you 
will,  but  do  not  believe  I  can  be  ungenerous  or  un- 
grateful. I  wish  I  could  tell  you  what  answer  you  will 
receive  from  some  people,  or  upon  what  terms.  If  my 
opinion  could  sway,  nothing  should  displease  you.  No- 
body ever  was  so  disinterested  as  I  am.  I  would  not 
have  to  reproach  myself  (I  don^t  suppose  you  would) 
that  I  had  any  way  made  you  uneasy  in  your  circum- 
stances.    Let  me  beg  you  (which  I  do  with  the  utmost 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  45 

sincerity)  only  to  consider  yourself  in  this  affair ;  and, 
since  I  am  so  unfortunate  to  have  nothing  in  my  own 
disposal,  do  not  think  I  have  any  hand  in  making 
settlements.  People  in  my  way  are  sold  like  slaves ; 
and  I  cannot  tell  what  price  my  master  will  put  on  me. 
If  you  do  agree,  I  shall  endeavour  to  contribute,  as 
much  as  lies  in  my  power,  to  your  happiness.  I  so 
heartily  despise  a  great  figure,  I  have  no  notion  of 
spending  money  so  foolishly ;  though  one  had  a  great 
deal  to  throw  away.  If  this  breaks  off,  I  shall  not 
complain  of  you  :  and  as,  whatever  happens,  I  shall 
still  preserve  the  opinion  3'ou  have  behaved  yourself 
well.  Let  me  entreat  you,  if  I  have  committed  any 
follies,  to  forgive  them ;  and  be  so  just  to  think  I  would 
not  do  an  ill  thing." 

Yet  neither  humility  nor  •  resentment  could  cure 
Edward  Wortley  of  his  habit  of  finding  fault,  whether, 
as  Mr.  Moy  Thomas  thinks,  it  was  an  ungenerous 
device  for  drawing  fresh  avowals  from  Lady  Mary,  or 
—  as  I  am  inclined  to  conjecture — a  necessity  of  his 
temperament.  Sometimes  we  find  her  bidding  him 
"  adieu  for  ever,"  with  what  sincerity  we  may  perhaps 
guess,  on  the  ground  of  his  inveterate  suspicion.  ''  I 
begin  to  be  tired  of  my  humility,"  she  says  :  *'  I  have 
carried  my  complaisances  to  you  further  than  I  ought. 
You  make  new  scruples ;  you  have  a  good  deal  of 
fancy ;  and  your  distrusts  being  all  of  your  own 
making,  are  more  immovable  than  if  there  was  some 
real  ground  for  them."  And  certainly  the  one  love-letter 
of  Mr.    Wortley    Montagu's     printed    in    the     corre- 


46  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

spondence  is  of  a  provoking  character.  He  complains 
of  having  disobHged  an  influential  friend  to  meet  her, 
and  of  her  cutting  short  the  interview,  and  plainly 
declares  that  he  thinks  it  wisest  not  to  marry  her. 
"  What  need  I  add  ?  I  see  what  is  best  for  me,  I 
condemn  what  I  do,  and  yet  I  fear  I  must  do  it." 
Truly  a  romantic  lover !  And  yet  we  find  him  in  the 
same  letter  elaborately  arranging  half  a  dozen  \yays  of 
meeting  Lady  Mary  by  the  help  of  Mrs.  Steele.  In 
spite  of  their  epistolary  differences,  the  pair  were 
always  coming  together  again.  It  is  curious  to  read 
Lady  Mary's  conception  of  wedded  happiness  : 

"  Happiness  is  the  natural  design  of  all  the  world ;  and 
everything  we  see  done,  is  meant  in  order  to  attain  it. 
My  imagination  places  it  in  friendship.  By  friendship  I 
mean  an  entire  communication  of  thoughts,  wishes,  inte- 
rests, and  pleasures,  being  undivided  ;  a  mutual  esteem, 
which  naturally  carries  with  it  a  pleasing  sweetness  of 
conversation,  and  terminates  in  the  desire  of  making 
one  or  another  happy,  without  being  forced  to  run  into 
visits,  noise,  and  hurry,  which  serve  rather  to  trouble 
than  compose  the  thoughts  of  any  reasonable  creature. 
There  are  few  capable  of  a  friendship  such  as  I  have 
described,  and  'tis  necessary  for  the  generality  of  the 
world  to  be  taken  up  with  trifles.  Carry  a  fine  lady 
and  a  fine  gentleman  out  of  town,  and  they  know  no 
more  what  to  say.  To  take  from  them  plays,  operas, 
and  fashions,  is  taking  away  all  their  topics  of  dis- 
course ;  and  they  know  not  how  to  form  their  thoughts 
on  any  other  subjects.     They  know  very  well  what  it  is 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  47 

to  be  admired,  but  are  perfectly  ignorant  of  what  it  is  to 
be  loved.  I  take  you  to  have  sense  enough  not  to  think 
this  scheme  romantic  :  I  rather  choose  to  use  the  word 
friendship  than  love ;  because,  in  the  general  sense 
that  word  is  spoke,  it  signifies  a  passion  rather  founded 
on  fancy  than  reason  ;  and  when  I  say  friendship,  I 
mean  a  mixture  of  tenderness  and  esteem,  and  which 
a  long  acquaintance  increases,  not  decays :  how  far  I 
deserve  such  a  friendship,  I  can  be  no  judge  of  myself. 
I  may  want  the  good  sense  that  is  necessary  to  be 
agreeable  to  a  man  of  merit,  but  I  know  I  want  the 
vanity  to  believe  I  have  [it]  ;  and  can  promise  you 
shall  never  hke  me  less  upon  knowing  me  better ;  and 
that  I  shall  never  forget  you  have  a  better  understand- 
ing than  myself." 

Events  were  now  coming  to  a  crisis,  for  in  1712  the 
objectionable  "  Mr.  K."  with  his  offers  of  liberal  settle- 
ments, appeared  on  the  scene,  and  Lord  Dorchester 
ordered  his  daughter  to  accept  him.  The  long  letter 
in  which  Lady  Mary  gives  an  account  of  her  attempt 
to  shake  her  father's  resolution  is  a  striking  picture 
of  the  way  in  which  ladies  of  high  rank  were  disposed 
of.  The  father,  careless  as  he  had  been  of  his 
daughter's  education,  would  never  hear  of  his  not 
having  full  power  to  bestow  her  hand  ;  and  her  plea  to 
be  allowed  to  remain  single  at  least  was  met  by  threats. 
She  writes  to  Edward  Wortley  Montagu  : 
"  I  wanted  courage  to  resist  at  first  the  will  of  my 
relations ;  but  as  every  day  added  to  my  fears,  those,  at 
last,  grew  strong  enough  to  make  me  venture  the  dis- 


48  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

obliging  them.  A  harsh  word  damps  my  spirits  to 
a  degree  of  silencing  all  I  have  to  say.  I  knew  the 
folly  of  my  own  temper,  and  took  the  method  of  writing 
to  the  disposer  of  me.  I  said  every  thing  in  this  letter 
I  thought  proper  to  move  him,  and  proffered,  in  atone- 
ment for  not  marrying  whom  he  would,  never  to  marry 
at  all.  He  did  not  think  fit  to  answer  this  letter,  but 
sent  for  me  to  him.  He  told  me  he  was  very  much  sur- 
prised that  I  did  not  depend  on  his  judgment  for  my 
future  happiness;  that  he  knew  nothing  I  had  to  com- 
plain of,  etc. ;  that  he  did  not  doubt  I  had  some  other 
fancy  in  my  head,  which  encouraged  me  to  this  disobedi- 
ence; but  he  assured  me,  if  I  refused  a  settlement  he  had 
provided  for  me,  he  gave  me  his  word,  whatever  pro- 
posals were  made  him,  he  would  never  so  much  as  enter 
into  a  treaty  with  any  other  ;  that,  if  I  founded  any 
hopes  upon  his  death,  I  should  find  myself  mistaken,  he 
never  intended  to  leave  me  any  thing  but  an  annuity 
of  ;^400  per  annum ;  that,  though  another  would  pro- 
ceed in  this  manner  after  I  had  given  so  just  a  pretence 
for  it,  yet  he  had  [the]  goodness  to  leave  m}^  destiny  yet 
in  my  own  choice,  and  at  the  same  time  commanded 
me  to  communicate  my  design  to  my  relations,  and  ask 
their  advice.  As  hard  as  this  may  sound,  it  did  not 
shock  my  resolution  ;  I  was  pleased  to  think,  at  any 
price,  I  had  it  in  my  power  to  be  free  from  a  man 
I  hated.  I  told  my  intention  to  all  my  nearest  re- 
lations. I  was  surprised  at  their  blaming  it,  to  the 
greatest  degree.  I  was  told,  they  were  sorry  I  would 
ruin  myself;  but,  if  I  was  so  unreasonable,  they  could 


Early  Life  and  Mar^'iage  49 

not  blame  my  F.  [father]  whatever  he  inflicted  on  me. 
I  objected  I  did  not  love  him.  They  made  answer, 
they  found  no  necessity  of  loving ;  if  I  lived  well  with 
him,  that  was  all  was  required  of  me  ;  and  that  if  I 
considered  this  town,  I  should  find  very  few  women  in 
love  with  their  husbands,  and  yet  a  many  happy.  It 
was  in  vain  to  dispute  with  such  prudent  people  ;  they 
looked  upon  me  as  a  little  romantic,  and  I  found  it  im- 
possible to  persuade  them  that  living  in  London  at 
liberty  was  not  the  height  of  happiness.  However,  they 
could  not  change  my  thoughts,  though  I  found  I  was  to 
expect  no  protection  from  them.     When  I  was  to  give 

my  final  answer  to ,*  I  told  him  that  I  preferred  a 

single  life  to  any  other ;  and,  if  he  pleased  to  permit 
me,  I  would  take  that  resolution.  He  replied,  he  could 
not  hinder  my  resolutions,  but  I  should  not  pretend 
after  that  to  please  him  ;  since  pleasing  him  was  only  to 
be  done  by  obedience ;  that  if  I  would  disobey,  I  knew 
the  consequences  ;  he  would  not  fail  to  confine  me, 
where  I  might  repent  at  leisure  ;  that  he  had  also  con- 
sulted my  relations,  and  found  them  all  agreeing  in  his 
sentiments.  He  spoke  this  in  a  manner  hindered  my 
answering.  I  retired  to  my  chamber,  where  I  writ  a 
letter  to  let  him  know  my  aversion  to  the  man  proposed 
was  too  great  to  be  overcome,  that  I  should  be  miserable 
beyond  all  things  could  be  imagined,  but  I  was  in  his 
hands,  and  he  might  dispose  of  me  as  he  thought  fit. 
He  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  this  answer,  and  pro- 
ceeded as  if  I  had  given  a  willing  consent. — I  forgot  to 
*  This  blank  evidently  refers  to  her  father. 

4 


50  Early  Life  a?id  Marriage 

tell  you,  he  named  you,  and  said,  if  I  thought  that  way, 
I  was  very  much  mistaken ;  that  if  he  had  no  other 
engagements,  yet  he  would  never  have  agreed  to  your 
proposals,  having  no  inclinations  to  see  his  grand- 
children beggars. 

"J  do  not  speak  this  to  endeavour  to  alter  your  opinion, 
but  to  shew  the  improbability  of  his  agreeing  to  it.  I 
confess  I  am  entirely  of  your  mind.  I  reckon  it  among 
the  absurdities  of  custom  that  a  man  must  be  obliged 
to  settle  his  whole  estate  on  an  eldest  son,  beyond  his 
power  to  recall,  whatever  he  proves  to  be,  and  make 
himself  unable  to  make  happy  a  younger  child  that  may 
deserve  to  be  so.  If  I  had  an  estate  myself,  I  should 
not  make  such  ridiculous  settlements,  and  I  cannot 
blame  you  for  being  in  the  right  .  .  ." 

Lady  Mary's  father  took  her  submission  as  a  consent 
to  the  marriage  he  proposed,  and  began  to  provide 
wedding  clothes  to  the  amount  of  ;f  400.  A  plan  for  an 
elopement  was  concerted  between  the  lovers — or  rather 
several  plans.  A  friendly  lady  would  lend  her  house,  and 
the  lover  was  to  call  there  with  the  license  and  a  coach 
and  six.  This  plan  failed,  and  Lady  Mary  was  sent  with 
her  brother  to  West  Dean  in  Wiltshire;  and,  perhaps 
with  his  help,  she  eventually  escaped  and  joined  Edward 
Wortley  Montagu,  and  they  were  married  some  time  in 
August,  1712.  Her  first  letter  as  a  wife  is  dated  from 
Walling  Wells  in  Nottinghamshire,  where  she  was 
staying  with  her  friends  the  Whites,  while  her  husband 
went  to  Durham  on  business. 

*'  I    don't    know   very   well    how    to   begin ;    I    am 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  51 

perfectly  unacquainted  with  a  proper  matrimonial  style. 
After  all,  I  think  'tis  best  to  write  as  if  we  were  not 
married  at  all.  I  lament  your  absence,  as  if  you  was 
still  my  lover,  and  I  am  impatient  to  hear  you  are  got 
safe  to  Durham,  and  that  you  have  fixed  a  time  for 
your  return. 

"  I  have  not  been  very  long  in  this  family ;  and  I 
fancy  myself  in  that  described  in  the  Spectator.  The 
good  people  here  look  upon  their  children  with  a 
fondness  that  more  than  recompenses  their  care  of 
them.  I  don't  perceive  much  distinction  in  regard  to 
their  merits;  and  when  they  speak  sense  or  nonsense, 
it  affects  the  parents  with  almost  the  same  pleasure. 
My  friendship  for  the  mother,  and  kindness  for  Miss 
Biddy,  make  me  endure  the  squalling  of  Miss  Nanny 
and  Miss  Mary  with  abundance  of  patience ;  and  my 
foretelling  the  future  conquests  of  the  eldest  daughter, 
makes  me  very  well  with  the  family — I  don't  know 
whether  you  will  presently  find  out  that  this  seeming 
impertinent  account  is  the  tenderest  expressions  of  my 
love  to  you  ;  but  it  furnishes  my  imagination  with 
agreeable  pictures  of  our  future  life ;  and  I  flatter 
myself  with  the  hopes  of  one  day  enjoying  with  you  the 
same  satisfactions ;  and  that,  after  as  many  years 
together,  I  may  see  you  retain  the  same  fondness  for 
me  as  I  shall  certainly  mine  for  you,  and  the  noise  of  a 
nursery  may  have  more  charms  for  us  than  the  music 
of  an  opera." 

But  these  high  spirits  soon  passed  away,  when  the 
answer  to  her  letter  did  not  come  at  the  first  oppor- 

4—2 


52  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

tunity.  Her  next  note  is  full  of  complaints  and  fears, 
the  secret  of  which  is  perhaps  found  in  her  being 
shortly  after  laid  up  with  a  swelled  face,  an  ailment 
which  we  find  frequently  recurring  in  her  life,  and  for 
which  the  dentistry  of  that  time  had  no  remedy. 
Though  the  name  of  ''neuralgia"  was  not  invented,  the 
complaint  probably  existed.  However,  we  soon  find 
Lady  Mary  at  Hinchinbrook,  ransacking  the  house  for 
books,  failing  to  find  any,  but  discovering  in  an  old 
trunk  the  letters  of  the  first  Earl  of  Sandwich,  and  ''  in 
hopes  that  those  from  his  lady  will  tend  much  to  my 
edification,  being  the  most  extraordinary  lessons  of 
economy  that  ever  I  read  in  my  life.  ...  I  walked 
yesterday  two  hours  on  the  terrace.  These  are  the 
most  considerable  events  that  have  happened  in  your 
absence;  excepting  that  a  good-natured  robin  red- 
breast kept  me  company  almost  all  the  afternoon,  with 
so  much  good  humour  and  humanity  as  gives  me  faith 
for  the  piece  of  charity  ascribed  to  these  little  creatures 
in  the  '  Children  in  the  Wood,'  which  I  have  hitherto 
thought  only  a  poetical  ornament  to  that  history." 

In  1713  her  first  child  was  born,  and  her  only  brother 
died,  and  her  sister  Frances  was  married  in  1714  to 
the  Earl  of  Mar.  There  are  frequent  notices  of  the 
health  of  young  Edward  Wortley.  While  she  was  stay- 
ing at  ^liddlethorpe,  in  Yorkshire,  her  husband  being 
then  in  London,  came  the  surprising  news  of  the  death 
of  Queen  Anne  and  the  proclamation  of  George  L  *'  I 
went  with  my  cousin  to-day,"  she  writes,  '*  to  see  the 
King  proclaimed,    which  was    done  ;    the    archbishop 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  53 

walking  next  the  lord  mayor,  all  the  country  gentry 
following,  with  greater  crowds  of  people  than  I  believed 
to  be  in  York^  vast  acclamations,  and  the  appearance 
of  a  general  satisfaction.  The  Pretender  afterwards 
dragged  about  the  streets  and  burned.  Ringing  of 
bells,  bonfires,  and  illuminations,  the  mob  crying, 
'  Liberty  and  Property!'  and  '  Long  live  King  George !' 
This  morning  all  the  principal  men  of  any  figure  took 
post  for  London,  and  we  are  alarmed  with  the  fear  of 
attempts  from  Scotland,  though  all  Protestants  here 
seem  unanimous  for  the  Hanover  succession.  The 
poor  young  ladies  at  Castle  Howard  are  as  much 
afraid  as  I  am,  being  left  all  alone,  without  any  hopes 
of  seeing  their  father  again  (though  things  should 
prove  well)  this  eight  or  nine  months.*  They  have 
sent  to  desire  me  very  earnestly  to  come  to  them,  and 
bring  my  boy  ;  'tis  the  same  thing  as  pensioning  in  a 
nunnery,  for  no  mortal  man  ever  enters  the  doors  in 
the  absence  of  their  father,  who  is  gone  post.  During 
this  uncertainty,  I  think  it  will  be  a  safe  retreat ;  for 
Middlethorpe  stands  exposed  to  plunderers,  if  there  be 
any  at  all."  There  was  much  anxiety  as  to  the  pro- 
spects of  a  rising  against  the  Hanoverian  succession. 
A  fleet  was  said  to  be  off  Scotland;  and  Lady  Mary's 
brother-in-law,  the  Earl  of  Mar,  was  receiving  suspi- 
cious letters.  Soon,  however,  the  first  alarm  passed 
off;    and   Lady    Mary's   anxiety   was   chiefly   directed 

*  The  young  ladies  were  the  daughters  of  the  Earl  of  Carlisle, 
who  had  been  chosen  one  of  the  Lords  Justices  till  George  I.'s 
arrival. 


54  Early  Life  and  Maniage 

towards  securing  for  her  husband  a  seat  in  the  new 
Pariiament  and  a  share  in  the  honour  and  profit  of  the 
great  Whig  victory.  Her  letters  about  this  time  read 
Hke  those  of  an  election-agent.  Could  Lord  Pelham 
(afterwards  the  famous  Duke  of  Newcastle)  be  per- 
suaded, as  he  is  "  very  silly,  but  very  good-natured," 
that  he  was  bound  in  honour  to  put  Mr.  Wortley 
Montagu  in  for  Aldburgh  ?  Would  his  father  insist 
on  standing  for  the  family  seat  at  Huntingdon  ?  Then, 
again,  he  is  urged  to  stand  for  York,  but  does  not 
decide  in  time ;  perhaps  he  will  have  to  buy  a  Cornish 
borough.  Is  there  a  chance  at  Newark? — and  so  on, 
a  certain  feverish  impatience  being  manifest  in  the 
tone  of  the  letters.  *'  'Tis  surprising  to  me  that  you 
are  all  this  while  in  the  midst  of  your  friends  without 
being  sure  of  a  place,  when  so  many  insignificant 
creatures  come  in  without  any  opposition." 

Lord  Halifax  had  now  made  Edward  Wortley  the 
offer  of  being  a  Commissioner  of  the  Treasur}^,  but  the 
latter  was  very  doubtful  whether  he  would  accept  the 
post.  His  wife  urged  him  strongly  to  do  so.  "  I  am 
glad  you  think  of  serving  your  friends  ;  I  hope  it  will 
put  you  in  mind  of  serving  yourself.  I  need  not 
enlarge  upon  the  advantages  of  money  ;  everything  we 
see,  and  everything  we  hear,  puts  us  in  remembrance 
of  it.  If  it  was  possible  to  restore  liberty  to  your 
country,  or  limit  the  encroachments  of  the  pre — ve 
[prerogative],  by  reducing  yourself  to  a  garret,  I 
should  be  pleased  to  share  so  glorious  a  poverty  with 
you  ;  but  as  the  world  is,  and  will  be,  'tis  a  sort  of 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  55 

duty  to  be  rich,  that  it  may  be  in  one's  power  to  do 
good  ;  riches  being  another  word  for  power,  towards 
the  obtaining  of  which  the  first  necessary  quahfication 
is  impudence,  and  (as  Demosthenes  said  of  pronuncia- 
tion in  oratory)  the  second  is  impudence,  and  the 
third,  still,  impudence.  No  modest  man  ever  did  or 
ever  will  make  his  fortune.  Your  friend  Lord 
H  [alifa]x,  R.  W[alpol]e,  and  all  other  remarkable 
instances  of  quick  advancement,  have  been  remarkably 
impudent.  The  Ministry  is  like  a  play  at  Court  ; 
there's  a  little  door  to  get  in,  and  a  great  crowd 
without,  shoving  and  thrusting  who  shall  be  foremost ; 
people  who  knock  others  with  their  elbows,  disregard 
a  little  kick  of  the  shins,  and  still  thrust  heartily 
forwards,  are  sure  of  a  good  place.  Your  modest  man 
stands  behind  in  the  crowd,  is  shoved  about  by  every 
body,  his  cloaths  tore,  almost  squeezed  to  death,  and 
sees  a  thousand  get  in  before  him,  that  don't  make  so 
good  a  figure  as  himself.  I  don't  say  it  is  impossible 
for  an  impudent  man  not  to  rise  in  the  world  ;  but  a 
moderate  merit,  with  a  large  share  of  impudence,  is 
more  probable  to  be  advanced  than  the  greatest 
qualifications  without  it." 

There  is  a  tone  of  pique  in  her  reference  to  the 
matter  in  the  lively  sketch  of  the  Court  of  George  I., 
written  not  long  after.  *'  I  was  then  in  Yorkshire  : 
Mr.  W.  [Wortley]  (who  had,  at  that  time,  that  sort  of 
passion  for  me  that  would  have  made  me  invisible  to 
all  but  himself,  had  it  been  in  his  power)  had  sent 
me   thither.     He  stayed   in  town  on  the   account   of 


56  Eaj'ly  Life  and  Marriage 

some  business,  and  the  Queen's  death  detained  him 
there.  Lord  Hahfax,  his  near  relation,  was  put  at  the 
head  of  the  Treasury;  and,  wilHng  to  have  the  rest  of 
the  commissioners  such  as  he  thought  he  could  depend 
on,  named  him  for  one  of  them.  It  will  be  surprising 
to  add  that  he  hesitated  to  accept  of  it,  at  a  time  when 
his  father  was  alive  and  his  present  income  very  small; 
but  he  had  that  opinion  of  his  own  merit  as  made  him 
think  any  offer  below  that  of  Secretary  of  State  not 
worth  his  acceptance,  and  had  certainly  refused  it  if  he 
had  not  been  persuaded  to  the  contrary  by  a  rich  old 
uncle  of  mine.  Lord  Pierrepont,  whose  fondness  for  me 
gave  him  expectations  of  a  large  legacy."  Possibly  she 
was  offended  by  her  husband  paying  more  attention  to 
Lord  Pierrepont's  advice  than  to  her  own  letters. 

From  whatever  reason,  the  post  was  accepted ;  and 
Lady  Mary  came  up  to  London,  though  not  till  the 
new  Court  had  all  arrived.  Her  lively  pen  gives  an 
amusing  character  of  George  L  and  his  son  in  the 
sketch  already  quoted.  Certainly  she  had  no  ideas  of 
any  divinity  hedging  a  king.  ''The  King's  character 
may  be  comprised  in  very  few  words.  In  private  life 
he  would  have  been  called  an  honest  blockhead ;  and 
Fortune,  that  made  him  a  king,  added  nothing  to  his 
happiness,  only  prejudiced  his  honesty,  and  shortened 
his  days.  No  man  was  ever  more  free  from  ambition  ; 
he  loved  money,  but  loved  to  keep  his  own,  without 
being  rapacious  of  other  men's.  He  would  have  grown 
rich  by  saving,  but  was  incapable  of  laying  schemes 
for    getting ;    he  was  more  properly    dull   than   lazy. 


Eaidy  Life  and  Marriage  57 

and  would  have  been  so  well  contented  to  have  re- 
mained in  his  little  town  of  Hanover,  that  if  the 
ambition  of  those  about  him  had  not  been  greater  than 
his  own,  we  should  never  have  seen  him  in  England  ; 
and  the  natural  honesty  of  his  temper,  joined  with  the 
narrow  notions  of  a  low  education,  made  him  look 
upon  his  acceptance  of  the  crown  as  an  act  of  usurpa- 
tion, which  was  always  uneasy  to  him.  But  he  was 
carried  by  the  stream  of  the  people  about  him,  in  that 
as  in  every  other  action  of  his  life.  He  could  speak 
no  English,  and  was  past  the  age  of  learning  it.  Our 
customs  and  laws  were  all  mysteries  to  him,  which  he 
neither  tried  to  understand  nor  was  capable  of  under- 
standing if  he  endeavoured  it.  He  was  passively 
good-natured,  and  wished  all  mankind  enjoyed  quiet 
if  they  would  let  him  do  so." 

It  is  noteworthy  that  Lady  Mary  seems  to  have  been 
a  favourite  not  only  with  George  I.,  but — which  was 
unusual — with  his  son  and  his  son's  wife.  Princess 
Caroline,  afterwards  the  stanch  ally  of  Walpole. 
Yet  we  do  not  find  either  of  them  spared  any  more 
than  George  I.  Perhaps  the  sketch  was  written 
before  the  author  was  on  intimate  terms  with  Princess 
Caroline  ;  yet  its  language  shows  in  a  small  compass 
how  Lady  Mary  contrived  to  make  enemies.  It 
would  be  hard  to  write  more  contemptuously  than 
she  does  ;  still  she  had  certainly  no  cause  of  enmity 
towards  the  royal  family,  and  their  sole  defect  was 
stupidity,  for  which  she  had  a  natural  intolerance. 

*'  I  have  not  yet  given  the  character  of  the  Prince. 


58  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

The   fire   of  his   temper  appeared   in   every  look   and 
gesture ;  which,  being  unhappily  under  the  direction  of 
a  small  understanding,  was  every  day  throwing  him 
upon    some    indiscretion.      He  was    naturally  sincere, 
and  his  pride  told  him  that  he  was  placed  above  con- 
straint ;  not  reflecting  that  a  high  rank  carries  along 
with   it  '  a    necessity   of    a    more    decent    and    regular 
behaviour  than   is  expected  from  those  who  are  not 
set  in  so  conspicuous  a  light.     He  was  so  far  from 
being  of  that  opinion,  that  he  looked  on  all  the  men 
and  women  he  saw  as  creatures  he  might  kick  or  kiss 
for   his   diversion ;    and,   whenever  he   met   with    any 
opposition  in  those  designs,  he  thought  his  opposers 
impudent  rebels  to  the  will  of  God,  who  created  them 
for  his  use,  and  judged  of  the  merit  of  all  people  by 
their  ready  submission   to  his  orders,  or  the  relation 
they  had  to  his  person.     And  in  this  view  he  looked 
upon  the  Princess  as  the  most  meritorious  of  her  sex ; 
and  she  took  care  to  keep  him  in  that  sentiment  by  all 
the  arts  she  was  mistress  of.     He  had  married  her  by 
inclination ;  his  goOjd-natured  father  had  been  so  com- 
plaisant to  let  him  choose  a  wife  for  himself.     She  was 
of  the  house  of  Anspach,  and  brought  him  no  great 
addition  either  of  money  or  alliance ;  but  was  at  that 
time  esteemed  a  German  beauty,  and  had  that  genius 
which  qualified  her  for  the  government  of  a  fool,  and 
made  her  despicable  in  the  eyes  of  all  men  of  sense ;  I 
mean  a  low  cunning,  which  gave  her  an  inclination  to 
cheat   all    the   people  she  conversed   with,  and    often 
cheated  herself  in  the  first  place,  by  showing  her  the 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  59 

wrong  side  of  her  interest,  not  having  understanding 
enough  to  observe  that  falsehood  in  conversation,  hke 
red  on  the  face,  should  be  used  very  seldom  and  very 
sparingly,  or  they  destroy  that  interest  and  beauty  they 
are  designed  to  heighten. 

"  Her  first  thought  on  her  marriage  was  to  secure  to 
herself  the  sole  and  whole  direction  of  her  spouse  ;  and 
to  that  purpose  [she]  counterfeited  the  most  extrava- 
gant fondness  for  his  person ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  so 
devoted  to  his  pleasures  (which  she  often  told  him  were 
the  rule  of  all  her  thoughts  and  actions),  that  whenever 
he  thought  proper  to  find  them  with  other  women,  she 
even  loved  whoever  was  instrumental  to  his  entertain- 
ment, and  never  resented  anything  but  what  appeared 
to  her  a  want  of  respect  for  him  ;  and  in  this  light  she 
really  could  not  help  taking  notice  that  the  presents 
made  to  her  on  her  wedding  were  not  worthy  of  his 
bride,   and  at   least    she    ought   to   have   had    all   his 
mother's  jewels.     This  was  enough  to  make  him  lose 
all   respect   to    his    indulgent    father.      He    downright 
abused  his  ministers,  and  talked  impertinently  to  his 
old  grandmother,  the  Princess  Sophia ;  which  ended  in 
such  a  coldness  towards  all  his  family  as  left  him  en- 
tirely under  the  government  of  his  wife." 

We  owe  to  Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  who  alone,  besides 
her  mother,  seems  to  have  been  allowed  to  look  into 
Lady  Mary's  Diary,  the  account  of  a  curious  adventure 
at  one  of  the  little  evening  parties  which  George  L 
held  with  his  German  favourites  : 

*'  She     [Lady    Mary]     had    on   one  evening   a    par- 


6o  Early  Life  and  Marriage 

ticular  engagement  that  made  her  wish  to  be  dis- 
missed unusually  early ;  she  explained  her  reasons 
to  the  Duchess  of  Kendal,  and  the  Duchess  informed 
the  King,  who,  after  a  few  complimentary  remonstrances, 
appeared  to  acquiesce.  But  when  he  saw  her  about  to 
take  her  leave,  he  began  battling  the  point  afresh,  de- 
claring it  was  unfair  and  perfidious  to  cheat  him  in 
such  a  manner,  and  saying  n:iany  other  fine  things,  in 
spite  of  which  she  at  last  contrived  to  escape.  At  the 
foot  of  the  great  stairs  she  ran  against  Secretary  Craggs 
just  coming  in,  who  stopped  her  to  inquire  what  was 
the  matter — were  the  company  put  off?  She  told  him 
why  she  went  away,  and  how  urgently  the  King  had 
pressed  her  to  stay  longer ;  possibly  dwelling  on  that 
head  with  some  small  complacency.  Mr.  Craggs  made 
no  remark ;  but,  when  he  had  heard  all,  snatching  her 
up  in  his  arms  as  a  nurse  carries  a  child,  he  ran  at  full 
speed  with  her  upstairs,  deposited  her  within  the  ante- 
chamber, kissed  both  her  hands  respectfully  (still  not 
saying  a  word),  and  vanished.  The  pages  seeing  her 
returned,  they  knew  not  how,  hastily  threw  open  the 
inner  doors,  and,  before  she  had  recovered  her  breath, 
she  found  herself  again  in  the  King's  presence.  ^  Ah  ! 
la  rcvoila  /'  cried  he  and  the  Duchess,  extremely  pleased, 
and  began  thanking  her  for  her  obliging  change  of 
mind.  The  motto  on  all  palace-gates  is  *  Hush  I'  as 
Lady  Mary  very  well  knew.  She  had  not  to  learn  that 
mystery  and  caution  ever  spread  their  awful  wings  over 
the  precincts  of  a  Court ;  where  nobody  knows  what 
dire    mischief  may  ensue    from    one    unlucky  syllable 


Early  Life  and  Marriage  6i 

blabbed  about  anything,  or  about  nothing,  at  a  wrong 
time.  But  she  was  bewildered,  fluttered,  and  entirely 
off  her  guard ;  so,  beginning  giddily  with  *  Oh  Lord, 
sir,  I  have  been  so  frightened  !'  she  told  his  majesty  the 
whole  story  exactly  as  she  would  have  told  it  to  anyone 
else.  He  had  not  done  exclaiming,  nor  his  Germans 
wondering,  when  again  the  door  flew  open,  and  the 
attendants  announced  Mr.  Secretary  Craggs,  who,  but 
that  moment  arrived,  it  should  seem,  entered  with  the 
usual  obeisance,  and  as  composed  an  air  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  ^  Mais  comment  done,  Monsieur  Craggs,'' 
said  the  King,  going  up  to  him,  *  est-ce  que  c'est  I'usage  de 
ce  pays  de  porter  des  belles  dames  comme  un  sac  de  froment?^ 
'  Is  it  the  custom  of  this  country  to  carry  about  fair 
ladies  like  a  sack  of  wheat  ?'  The  minister,  struck 
dumb  by  this  unexpected  attack,  stood  a  minute  or 
two  not  knowing  which  way  to  look ;  then,  recovering 
his  self-possession,  answered  with  a  low  bow,  '  There  is 
nothing  I  would  not  do  for  your  majesty's  satisfaction.' 
This  was  coming  off  tolerably  well ;  but  he  did  not  for- 
give the  tell-tale  culprit,  in  whose  ear,  watching  his  oppor- 
tunity when  the  King  turned  from  them,  he  muttered  a 
bitter  reproach, with  a  round  oath  to  enforce  it ;  'which 
I  durst  not  resent,'  continued  she,  '  for  I  had  drawn  it 
upon  myself;  and  indeed  I  was  heartily  vexed  at  my 
own  imprudence.' " 

But  in  the  Hanoverian  Court,  which,  if  not  decorous, 
was  certainly  dull.  Lady  Mary  was  not  long  to  remain. 
She  was  destined  to  see  and  recount  far  more  interest- 
ing scenes. 


62  The  Embassy  to   Turkey 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    EMBASSY   TO    TURKEY 

The  Letters  during  the  Embassy — Journey  to  Vienna — Rotterdam 
— Relics  at  Cologne — Free  Cities  and  Despotism — Etiquette  at 
Ratisbon — Letters  from  Pope — Viennese  Houses  —  Opera  at 
Vienna — Court  Dress  —  The  Empress — Vienna  Etiquette  — 
Journey  to  Dresden — The  Post  in  Germany— Hanover  and  the 
Court — Stoves — Return  to  Vienna — Journey  through  Hungary — 
— Hungarian  Peasants — A  Liberal  Turk— A  Letter  to  Princess 
Caroline — The  Baths  at  Sofia— The  Sultan — The  Janissaries — 
Pastoral .  Scenes  at  Adrianople  —  Theocritus  and  Homer  — 
Inoculation — The  Fair  Fatima — Procession  of  the  Trades — 
Constantinople  —  Greek  Antiquities  —  Village  of  Belgrade  — 
— Climate  of  Pera — Turkish  Women — The  Seraglio — Turkish 
Palaces — Voyage  to  Genoa — The  Court  of  Turin — Mont  Cenis 
— Misery  of  France — Perilous  Crossing — The  Lady  and  her 
Lace — Home  again — Pope's  "  Lovers  struck  by  Lightning." 

The  letters  written  by  Lady  Mary  during  the  embassy 
to  Constantinople  are  not  perhaps  the  most  interest- 
ing part  of  her  correspondence ;  for  they  give  rather 
too  much  useful  information  and  too  little  of  the 
personality  of  their  writer ;  and  there  is  reason  for 
supposing  them  to  be  somewhat  altered,  or  indeed 
re-written,  for  publication.  Still,  they  probably  re- 
present the  substance  of  the  letters  actually  sent,  since 
they  were  reconstructed  from  the  Diary,  which  must 


The  Embassy  to    Turkey  63 

have  related  the  same  things  in  much  the  same  way  as 
the  letters  written  from  day  to  day. 

In  the  summer  of  1716  Mr.  Edward  Wortley 
Montagu  set  out  with  his  wife,  child  and  suite,  for  the 
long  journey  to  Constantinople.  As  at  first  intended, 
he  was  to  go  to  Vienna,  and  after  having  been  placed  in 
possession  of  the  views  of  the  Emperor's  Ministers,  to 
proceed  to  Turkey,  and,  if  possible,  arrange  for  the  close 
of  the  war  then  raging.  As  so  many  English  travellers 
have  done  since,  Lady  Mary  went  to  Rotterdam,  and 
was  charmed  with  the  Dutch  neatness  and  cleanliness, 
,:  '*  My  arrival  at  Rotterdam  presented  me  a  new 
scene  of  pleasure.  All  the  streets  are  paved  with  broad 
stones,  and  before  the  meanest  artificer's  doors  seats  of 
various-coloured  marbles,  and  so  neatly  kept,  that,  I 
will  assure  you,  I  almost  walked  all  over  the  town 
yesterday,  incognita,  in  my  slippers,  without  receiving 
one  spot  of  dirt ;  and  you  may  see  the  Dutch  maids 
washing  the  pavement  of  the  streets  with  more  applica- 
tion than  ours  do  our  bed-chambers.  The  town  seems 
so  full  of  people,  with  such  busy  faces,  all  in  motion, 
that  I  can  hardly  fancy  that  it  is  not  some  celebrated 
fair ;  but  I  see  it  is  every  day  the  same.  'Tis  certain 
no  town  can  be  more  advantageously  situated  for  com- 
merce. Here  are  seven  large  canals,  on  which  the 
merchants'  ships  come  up  to  the  very  doors  of  their 
houses.  The  shops  and  warehouses  are  of  a  surprising 
neatness  and  magnificence,  filled  with  an  incredible 
quantity  of  fine  merchandise,  and  so  much  cheaper 
than  what  we  see  in   England,   I  have  much  ado  to 


64  The  Embassy  to    T2L7'key 

persuade  myself  I  am  still  so  near  it.  Here  is  neither 
dirt  nor  beggary  to  be  seen.  One  is  not  shocked  with 
those  loathsome  cripples,  so  common  in  London,  nor 
teazed  with  the  importunities  of  idle  fellows  and  wenches, 
that  choose  to  be  nasty  and  lazy.  The  common  servants 
and  little  shopwomen  here  are  more  nicely  clean  than 
most  of  our  ladies  ;  and  the  great  variety  of  neat  dresses 
(every  woman  dressing  her  head  after  her  own  fashion)  is 
an- additional  pleasure  in  seeing  the  town."^ 

From  Rotterdam  she  went  by  Nimeguen,  which  re- 
minded her  greatly  of  Nottingham,  to  Cologne,  where 
the  profusion  of  relics  aroused  very  mundane  sentiments 
in  her. 

*'  Having  never  before  seen  anything  of  that  nature, 
I  could  not  enough  admire  the  magnificence  of  the 
altars,  the  rich  images  of  the  saints  (all  massy  silver), 
and  the  enchassures  of  the  relics ;  though  I  could  not 
help  murmuring,  in  my  heart,  at  that  profusion  of 
pearls,  diamonds,  and  rubies^  bestowed  on  the  adorn- 
ment of  rotten  teeth,  dirty  rags,  etc.  I  own  that  I 
had  wickedness  enough  to  covet  St.  Ursula's  pearl 
necklaces ;  though  perhaps  it  was  no  wickedness  at 
all,  an  image  not  being  certainly  one's  neighbour ;  but  I 
went  yet  farther,  and  wished  even  she  herself  converted 
into  dressing-plate,  and  a  great  St.  Christopher  I 
imagined  would  have  looked  very  well  in  a  cistern." 

Her  Whig  principles  were  evidently  strengthened 
by  the  contrast  between  the  ''  free  cities "  of  the 
empire  and  the  towns  under  princely  rule.  ''  I  have 
already  passed  a  large  part  of  Germany,  have  seen  all 


The  Embassy  to    Turkey  65 

that  is  remarkable  in  Cologne,  Frankfort,  Wurtsburg, 
and  this  place  [Nuremberg],  and  'tis  impossible  not  to 
observe   the  difference    between    the    free  towns    and 
those  under  the  government  of  absolute  princes,  as  all 
the   Httle   sovereigns  of  Germany  are.     In  the  first, 
there  appears  an  air  of  commerce  and  plenty.     The 
streets  are  well  built,  and  full  of  people  neatly  and 
plainly  dressed.     The  shops  loaded  with  merchandise, 
and  the  commonalty  clean  and  cheerful.     In  the  other, 
a  sort  of  shabby  finery,  a  number  of  dirty  people  of 
quality  tawdered   out ;    narrow,   nasty  streets    out   of 
repair,  wretchedly  thin  of  inhabitants,  and  above  half 
of  the  common  sort  asking  alms." 

Lady  Mary  was  compelled  by  a  cold  to  stay  some 
days  at  Ratisbon,  where  the  Diet  of  the  empire  then 
sat.  She  seems  to  have  been  much  amused  by  the 
ridiculous  formalities  of  German  diplomatic  society. 

I  "You  know  that  all  the  nobility  of  this  place  are 
envoys  from  different  states.  Here  are  a  great  number 
of  them,  and  they  might  pass  their  time  agreeably 
enough,  if  they  were  less  delicate  on  the  point  of 
ceremony.  But,  instead  of  joining  in  the  design  of 
making  the  town  as  pleasant  to  one  another  as  they 
can,  and  improving  their  little  societies,  they  amuse 
themselves  no  other  way  than  with  perpetual  quarrels, 
which  they  take  care  to  eternise,  by  leaving  them 
to  their  successors  ;  and  an  envoy  to  Ratisbon  receives, 
regularly,  half  a  dozen  quarrels  among  the  perquisites 
of  his  employment. 

"  You  may  be  sure  the  ladies  are  not  wanting,  on 

5 


66  The  Ejnbassy  to   Tit7'key 

their  side,  in  cherishing  and  improving  these  important 
piques,  which  divide  the  town  almost  into  as  many 
parties  as  there  are  famihes,  and  they  choose  rather  to 
suffer  the  mortification  of  sitting  almost  alone  on  their 
assembly  nights,  than  to  recede  one  jot  from  their 
pretensions.  I  have  not  been  here  above  a  week,  and 
yet  I  have  heard  from  almost  every  one  of  them  the 
whole  history  of  their  wrongs,  and  dreadful  complaints 
of  the  injustice  of  their  neighbours,  in  hopes  to  draw 
me  to  their  party.  But  I  think  it  very  prudent  to 
remain  neuter,  though,  if  I  was  to  stay  among  them, 
there  would  be  no  possibility  of  continuing  so,  their 
quarrels  running  so  high,  they  will  not  be  civil  to  those 
that  visit  their  adversaries.  The  foundation  of  these 
everlasting  disputes  turns  entirely  upon  place,  and  the 
title  of  Excellency,  which  they  all  pretend  to ;  and, 
what  is  very  hard,  will  give  it  to  nobody.  For  my 
part,  I  could  not  forbear  advising  them  (for  the  public 
good)  to  give  the  title  of  Excellency  to  every  body, 
which  would  include  receiving  it  from  every  body ;  but 
the  very  mention  of  such  a  dishonourable  peace  was 
received  with  as  much  indignation  as  Mrs.  Blackacre* 
did  the  notion  of  a  reference ;  and  I  began  to  think 
myself  ill-natured,  to  offer  to  take  from  them,  in  a 
town  where  there  are  so  few  diversions,  so  entertaining 
an  amusement.  I  know  that  my  peaceable  disposition 
already  gives  me  a  very  ill-figure,  and  that  it  is  publicly 
whispered,  as  a  piece  of  impertinent  pride  in  me,  that 
I  have  hitherto  been  saucily  civil  to  everybody,  as  if  I 
*  A  litigious  lady  in  Wycherley's  comedy,  "  The  Plain  Dealer." 


The  E)}  lb  assy  to   Tiirkey  67 

thought  nobody  good  enough  to  quarrel  with.  I  should 
be  obliged  to  change  my  behaviour  if  I  did  not  intend 
to  pursue  my  journey  in  a  few  days."  / 

From  Ratisbon  down  the  Danube  to  Vienna  the 
party  travelled  by  boat ;  and  what  seems  to  have 
struck  Lady  Mary  most  at  Vienna  was  the  custom  of 
occupying  "  flats "  in  the  houses — a  thing  then  un- 
heard of  in  England. 

''This  town,  which  has  the  honour  of  being  the 
Emperor's  residence,  did  not  at  all  answer  my  ideas 
of  it,  being  much  less  than  I  expected  to  find  it ;  the 
streets  are  very  close,  and  so  narrow,  one  cannot 
observe  the  fine  fronts  of  the  palaces,  though  many 
of  them  very  well  deserve  observation,  being  truly 
magnificent,  all  built  of  fine  white  stone,  and  excessive 
high,  the  town  being  so  much  too  little  for  the  number 
of  the  people  that  desire  to  live  in  it,  the  builders  seem 
to  have  projected  to  repair  that  misfortune,  by  clapping 
one  town  on  the  top  of  another,  most  of  the  houses 
being  of  five,  and  some  of  them  of  six  stories.  You  may 
easily  imagine,  that  the  streets  being  so  narrow,  the 
upper  rooms  are  extremely  dark ;  and,  what  is  an 
inconveniency  much  more  intolerable,  in  my  opinion, 
there  is  no  house  that  has  so  few  as  five  or  six  families 
in  it.  The  apartments  of  the  greatest  ladies,  and  even 
of  the  ministers  of  state,  are  divided  but  by  a  partition 
from  that  of  a  tailor  or  a  shoemaker ;  and  I  know  no- 
body that  has  above  two  floors  in  any  house,  one  for 
their  own  use,  and  one  higher  for  their  servants.  Those 
that  have  houses  of  their  own,  let  out  the  rest  of  them 

5—2 


68  TJie  Embassy  to    Turkey 

to  whoever  will  take  them  ;  thus  the  great  stairs  (which 
are  all  of  stone)  are  as  common  and  as  dirty  as  the 
street.  "Tis  true,  when  you  have  once  travelled  through 
them,  nothing  can  be  more  surprisingly  magnificent 
than  the  apartments.  They  are  commonly  a  suite  of 
eight  or  ten  large  rooms,  all  inlaid,  the  doors  and 
windows  richly  carved  and  gilt,  and  the  furniture  such 
as  is  seldom  seen  in  the  palaces  of  sovereign  princes  in 
other  countries  —  the  hangings  the  finest  tapestry  of 
Brussels,  prodigious  large  looking-glasses  in  silver 
frames,  fine  Japan  tables,  beds,  chairs,  canopies,  and 
window  curtains  of  the  richest  Genoa  damask  or 
velvet,  almost  covered  with  gold  lace  or  embroidery. 
The  whole  made  gay  by  pictures,  and  vast  jars  of 
Japan  china,  and  almost  in  every  room  large  lustres  of 
rock  crystal. 

"  I  have  already  had  the  honour  of  being  invited  to 
dinner  by  several  of  the  first  people  of  quality ;  and 
I  must  do  them  the  justice  to  sa}^  the  good  taste  and 
magnificence  of  their  tables  very  well  answers  to  that  of 
their  furniture.  I  have  been  more  than  once  entertained 
with  fifty  dishes  of  meat,  all  served  in  silver,  and  well 
dressed  ;  the  dessert  proportionable,  served  in  the  finest 
china.  But  the  variety  and  richness  of  their  wines  is 
what  appears  the  most  surprising.  The  constant  way 
is,  to  lay  a  list  of  their  names  upon  the  plates  of  the 
guests,  along  with  the  napkins ;  and  I  have  counted 
several  times  to  the  number  of  eighteen  different  sorts, 
all  exquisite  in  their  kinds." 

At  Vienna  she  seems  to   have  received  a  letter  of 


llie  Embassy  to   Turkey  69 

adoration  from  Pope,  whose  friendship  for  her  was 
probably  of  very  recent  date.  The  poet  protested  that 
all  his  letters  were  ''the  most  impartial  representations 
of  a  free  heart,"  a  mere  ''  thinking  aloud."  What  affects 
to  be  the  answer  to  this  letter  on  Lady  Mary's  part 
passes  over  slightly  the  protestations  of  Pope,  and  goes 
on  to  give  an  account  of  the  gaieties  of  Vienna — an 
account  probably  copied  out  of  the  Diary  later  on. 

*'  I  have  so  far  wandered  from  the  discipline  of  the 
Church  of  England  to  have  been  last  Sunda}^  at  the 
opera,  which  was  performed  in  the  garden  of  the 
Favorita  ;  and  I  was  so  much  pleased  with  it,  I  have 
not  yet  repented  my  seeing  it.  Nothing  of  that  kind 
ever  was  more  magnificent ;  and  I  can  easily  believe 
what  I  am  told,  that  the  decorations  and  habits  cost 
the  Emperor  thirty  thousand  pounds  sterling.  The 
stage  was  built  over  a  very  large  canal,  and,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  second  act,  divided  into  two  parts, 
discovering  the  water,  on  which  there  immediately 
came,  from  different  parts,  two  fleets  of  little  gilded 
vessels,  that  gave  the  representation  of  a  naval  fight. 
It  is  not  eas}^  to  imagine  the  beauty  of  this  scene, 
which  I  took  particular  notice  of  But  all  the  rest 
were  perfectly  fine  in  their  kind.  The  story  of  the 
opera  is  the  Enchantments  of  Alcina,  which  gives 
opportunity  for  a  great  variety  of  machines,  and 
changes  of  the  scene,  which  are  performed  with  a 
surprising  swiftness.  The  theatre  is  so  large,  that  it 
is  hard  to  carry  the  eye  to  the  end  of  it ;  and  the  habits 
in    the    utmost    magnificence,   to    the  number  of  one 


70  The  Embassy  to    Turkey 

hundred  and  eight.  No  house  could  hold  such  large 
decorations ;  but  the  ladies  all  sitting  in  the  open  air, 
exposes  them  to  great  inconveniences,  for  there  is  but 
one  canopy  for  the  imperial  family;  and  the  first  night 
it  was  represented,  a  shower  of  rain  happening,  the 
opera  was  broken  off,  and  the  company  crowded  away 
in  such  confusion,  I  was  almost  squeezed  to  death." 

As  soon  as  her  Court  dress  was  ready.  Lady  Mary 
went  to  call  on  the  beautiful  Elizabeth  of  Brunswick, 
wife  of  the  Emperor  Charles  VI. 

"  In  order  to  that  ceremony,  I  was  squeezed  up  in  a 
gown,  and  adorned  with  a  gorget  and  the  other  imple- 
ments thereunto  belonging  :  a  dress  very  inconvenient, 
but  which  certainly  shows  the  neck  and  shape  to  great 
advantage.  I  cannot  forbear  in  this  place  giving  you 
some  description  of  the  fashions  here,  which  are  more 
monstrous  and  contrary  to  all  common  sense  and 
reason  than  'tis  possible  for  you  to  imagine.  They 
build  certain  fabrics  of  gauze  on  their  heads  about  a 
yard  high,  consisting  of  three  or  four  stories,  fortified 
with  numberless  yards  of  heavy  ribbon.  The  founda- 
tion of  this  structure  is  a  thing  they  call  a  Bourle,  which 
is  exactly  of  the  same  shape  and  kind,  but  about  four 
times  as  big  as  those  rolls  our  prudent  milk-maids  make 
use  of  to  fix  their  pails  upon.  This  machine  they 
cover  with  their  own  hair,  which  they  mix  with  a  great 
deal  of  false,  it  being  a  particular  beauty  to  have  their 
heads  too  large  to  go  into  a  moderate  tub.  Their  hair 
is  prodigiously  powdered,  to  conceal  the  mixture,  and 
set  out  with  three  or  four  rows  of  bodkins  (wonderfully 


The  Embassy  to   Tm^key  71 

large,  that  stick  [out]  two  or  three  inches  from  their 
hair),  made  of  diamonds,  pearls,  red,  green,  and  yellow 
stones,  that  it  certainly  requires  as  much  art  and 
experience  to  carry  the  load  upright  as  to  dance  upon 
May-day  with  the  garland.  Their  whalebone  petti- 
coats outdo  ours  by  several  yards'  circumference,  and 
cover  some  acres  of  ground. 

''  You  may  easily  suppose  how  much  this  extra- 
ordinary dress  sets  off  and  improves  the  natural  ugli- 
ness with  which  God  Almighty  has  been  pleased  to 
endow  them  all  generally.  Even  the  lovely  Empress 
herself  is  obliged  to  comply  in  some  degree  with  these 
absurd  fashions,  which  they  would  not  quit  for  all  the 
world.  I  had  a  private  audience  (according  to  cere- 
mony) of  half  an  hour,  and  then  all  the  other  ladies 
were  permitted  to  come  [and]  make  their  court.  I  was 
perfectly  charmed  with  the  Empress :  I  cannot,  how- 
ever, tell  you  that  her  features  are  regular ;  her  eyes 
are  not  large,  but  have  a  lively  look,  full  of  sweetness  ; 
her  complexion  the  finest  I  ever  saw ;  her  nose  and 
forehead  well  made,  but  her  mouth  has  ten  thousand 
charms  that  touch  the  soul.  When  she  smiles,  'tis 
with  a  beauty  and  sweetness  that  force  adoration." 

And  so  on,  in  a  rather  rapturous  strain.  Her  com- 
ments on  the  course  of  love,  true  or  otherwise,  at 
Vienna  are,  perhaps,  more  entertaining,  though  too 
free  in  tone  to  quote  at  length.  The  passion  for  pre- 
cedence seems  to  have  been  as  great  there  as  at 
Ratisbon. 

''  Even  their  amours  and  their  quarrels  are  carried 


72  TJie  Embassy  to   Turkey 

on  with  a  surprising  temper,  and  they  are  never  Uvely 
but  upon  points  of  ceremony.  There,  I  own,  they  show 
all  their  passions  ;  and  'tis  not  long  since  two  coaches, 
meeting  in  a  narrow  street  at  night,  the  ladies  in  them 
not  being  able  to  adjust  the  ceremonial  of  which  should 
go  back,  sat  there  with  equal  gallantry  till  two  in  the 
morning,  and  were  both  so  fulh'  determined  to  die 
upon  the  spot,  rather  than  yield  in  a  point  of  that  im- 
portance, that  the  street  would  never  have  been  cleared 
till  their  deaths  if  the  Emperor  had  not  sent  his  guards 
to  part  them  ;  and  even  then  the}'  refused  to  stir,  till 
the  expedient  was  found  out  of  taking  them  both  out  in 
chairs  exactly  at  the  same  moment ;  after  which  it  was 
with  some  difficulty  the  pas.  was  decided  between  the 
two  coachmen,  no  less  tenacious  of  their  rank  than  the 
ladies." 

The  plan  of  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu's  journey  was 
changed,  and  instead  of  going  from  Vienna  to  Leghorn 
and  thence  by  sea,  he  travelled  to  Hanover,  to  see 
George  I.,  and  then  returned  to  Vienna.  The  journey 
through  Prague  to  Dresden  was  not  without  its  perils, 
as  the  following  extract  shows  : 

''  You  may  imagine  how  heartily  I  was  tired  with 
twenty-four  hours'  post  travelling,  without  sleep  or 
refreshment  (for  I  can  never  sleep  in  a  coach,  however 
fatigued).  We  passed  by  moonshine  the  frightful  pre- 
cipices that  divide  Bohemia  from  Saxony,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  runs  the  ri\er  Elbe  ;  but  I  cannot  say  that  I 
had  reason  to  fear  drowning  in  it,  being  perfectly  con- 
vinced that,  in  case  of  a  tumble,  it  was  utterly  impos- 


The  Embassy  to    Tui^key  73 

sible  to  come  alive  to  the  bottom.  In  many  places  the 
road  is  so  narrow  that  I  could  not  discern  an  inch  of 
space  between  the  wheels  and  the  precipice.    Yet  I  was 

so  good  a  wife  not  to  wake  Mr.  W ,  who  was  fast 

asleep  by  my  side,  to  make  him  share  in  my  fears, 
since  the  danger  was  unavoidable,  till  I  perceived,  by 
the  light  of  the  moon,  our  postilions  nodding  on  horse- 
back, while  the  horses  were  on  a  full  gallop,  and  I 
thought  it  very  convenient  to  call  out  to  desire  them  to 
look  where  they  were  going.     My  calling  waked  Mr. 

W ,  and  he  was  much  more  surprised  than  myself 

at  the  situation  we  were  in,  and  assured  me  that  he  had 
passed  the  Alps  five  times  in  different  places  without 
ever  having  gone  on  a  road  so  dangerous.  I  have  been 
told  since  it  is  common  to  find  the  bodies  of  travellers 
in  the  Elbe ;  but,  thank  God,  that  was  not  our  destiny; 
and  we  came  safe  to  Dresden,  so  much  tired  with  fear 
and  fatigue  it  was  not  possible  for  me  to  compose  my- 
self to  write." 

One  detail  of  this  journey  throws  an  interesting  light 
on  the  postal  arrangements  of  the  time.  '*  I  can  assure 
you  the  pacquet  at  Prague  was  tied  behind  my  chaise, 
and  in  that  manner  conveyed  to  Dresden.  The  secrets 
of  half  the  country  were  at  my  mercy,  if  I  had  had 
any  curiosity  for  them." 

Hanover  was  crowded  with  the  Court  of  George  I., 
whose  new  greatness  as  King  of  England  was  over- 
large  for  the  Electoral  capital.  The  German  beauties 
seem  to  have  been  somewhat  monotonous. 

"  All  the  women  have  literally  rosy  cheeks,  snowy 


74  The  Embassy  to   Turkey 

foreheads  and  bosoms,  jet  eye-brows,  and  scarlet  lips, 
to  which  they  generally  add  coal-black  hair.  These 
perfections  never  leave  them  till  the  hour  of  their 
deaths,  and  have  a  very  fine  effect  by  candle-light ;  but 
I  could  wish  they  were  handsome  with  a  little  more 
variety.  They  resemble  one  another  as  much  as  Mrs. 
Salmon's  Court  of  Great  Britain,*  and  are  in  as  much 
danger  of  melting  away  by  too  near  approaching  the 
fire,  which  they  for  that  reason  carefully  avoid,  though 
it  is  now  such  excessive  cold  weather  that  I  believe 
they  suffer  extremely  by  that  piece  of  self-denial." 

The  German  stoves  particularly  charmed  Lady 
Mar}',  and  she  was  resolved  to  introduce  them  into 
England  on  her  return. 

**  I  was  particularly  surprised  at  the  vast  number  of 
orange  trees,  much  larger  than  I  have  ever  seen  in 
England,  though  this  climate  is  certainly  colder.  But 
I  had  more  reason  to  wonder  that  night  at  the  King's 
table.  There  was  brought  to  him  from  a  gentleman  of 
this  countr}^  two  large  baskets  full  of  ripe  oranges  and 
lemons  of  different  sorts,  many  of  which  were  quite  new 
to  me  ;  and,  what  I  thought  worth  all  the  rest,  two  ripe 
ananas,  which,  to  my  taste,  are  a  fruit  perfectly  delicious- 
You  know  they  are  naturally  the  growth  of  Brazil,  and 
I  could  not  imagine  how  they  could  (iome  there  but  by 
enchantment.  Upon  enquiry,  I  learnt  that  they  have 
brought  their  stoves  to  such  perfection,  they  lengthen 
the  summer  as  long  as  they  please,  giving  to  every  plant 
the  degree  of  heat  it  would  receive  from  the  sun  in  its 
*  The  Madame  Tussaud's  of  the  period. 


The  Ejiibassy  to   Turkey  75 

native  soil.  The  effect  is  very  near  the  same ;  I  am 
surprised  we  do  not  practise  in  England  so  useful  an 
invention. 

"This  reflection  naturally  leads  me  to  consider  our 
obstinacy  in  shaking  with  cold  six  months  in  the  year, 
rather  than  make  use  of  stoves,  which  are  certainly  one 
of  the  greatest  conveniences  of  life;  and  so  far  from 
spoiling  the  form  of  a  room,  they  add  very  much  to  the 
magnificence  of  it,  when  they  are  painted  and  gilt,  as  at 
Vienna,  or  at  Dresden,  where  they  are  often  in  the 
shape  of  china  jars,  statues,  or  fine  cabinets,  so 
naturall}^  represented,  they  are  not  to  be  distinguished." 

From  Hanover,  instead  of  returning  to  England,  as 
her  friends  hoped,  Lady  Mary  accompanied  her  hus- 
band to  Vienna.  "Is  Eurydice  once  more  snatched 
to  the  shades  ?"  mourned  Pope.  "  If  ever  mortal  had 
reason  to  hate  the  King  it  is  I  ;  for  it  is  my  particular 
misfortune  to  be  almost  the  only  innocent  man  whom 
he  has  made  to  suffer,  both  by  his  government  at  home 
and  his  negotiations  abroad  " — Pope  being  subject  to 
disabilities  as  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  robbed  of  his 
friend  by  the  mission  to  Constantinople.  The  Embassy 
reached  Vienna  at  the  end  of  1716,  and  Mr.  Wortley 
Montagu  determined  to  lose  no  time,  but  proceed 
through  Hungary.  The  Danube  being  frozen,  the 
journey  had  to  be  made  by  land,  and  the  great  Prince 
Eugene  of  Savoy  and  all  Lady  Mary's  other  friends 
charged  her  earnestly  not  to  set  out  till  spring ;  but  she 
was  determined  to  go.  The  journey  proved  far  less 
terrible  than  was  anticipated,  and  the  account  of  it  is 


76  The  Embassy  to    Ttirkey 

therefore  uninteresting,  being  a  collection  of  historical 
notes  and  descriptions  too  much  savouring  of  a  guide- 
book. Hungary  at  that  time  was  an  unknown  wilder- 
ness to  English  people,  and  such  details  were  new. 
Some  of  the  descriptions,  however,  ma}-  be  still  of 
interest : 

''The  few  people  that  inhabit  Hungary  live  easily 
enough  ;  they  have  no  money,  but  the  woods  and 
plains  afford  them  provision  in  great  abundance  :  the}^ 
were  ordered  to  give  us  all  things  necessary,  even  what 

horses  we  pleased  to  demand,  gratis;  but  Mr.  W 

[Wortley]  would  not  oppress  the  poor  country  people 
by  making  use  of  this  order,  and  always  paid  them  the 
full  worth  of  what  we  had  from  them.  They  were  so 
surprised  at  this  unexpected  generosity,  w^hich  they  are 
very  little  used  to,  they  always  pressed  upon  us,  at 
parting,  a  dozen  of  fat  pheasants,  or  something  of  that 
sort,  for  a  present.  Their  dress  is  very  primitive,  being 
only  a  plain  sheep's  skin,  without  other  dressing  than 
being  dried  in  the  sun,  and  a  cap  and  boots  of  the  same 
stuff.  You  may  imagine  this  lasts  them  for  many  winters ; 
and  thus  they  have  very  little  occasion  for  money.'" 

After  some  delay  at  Peterwaradein,  occupied  in 
arranging  for  the  reception  of  the  Embassy  by  the 
Turks,  the  Ambassador  and  his  train  arrived  at  Bel- 
grade, then  held  by  the  Turks,  though  next  year  it  was 
captured  by  Prince  Eugene,  after  the  greatest  of  his 
victories.  At  Belgrade  Lady  Mary  fell  in  with  one  of 
those  Europeanized  modern  Turks  who  have  become 
more  common  since. 


The  Embassy  to    Ttirkey  yj 

"  My  only  diversion  is  the  conversation  of  our  host, 
Achmet  Beg,  a  title  something  like  that  of  Count  in 
Germany.  His  father  w^as  a  great  Pasha,  and  he  has 
been  educated  in  the  most  polite  Eastern  learning,  being 
perfectly  skilled  in  the  Arabic  and  Persian  languages, 
and  is  an  extraordinary  scribe,  which  they  call  effendi. 
This  accomplishment  makes  way  to  the  greatest  pre- 
ferments ;  but  he  has  had  the  good  sense  to  prefer  an 
easy,  quiet,  secure  life,  to  all  the  dangerous  honours  of 
the  Porte.  He  sups  with  us  every  night,  and  drinks 
wine  very  freely.  You  cannot  imagine  how  much  he  is 
delighted  with  the  Uberty  of  conversing  with  me.  He 
has  explained  to  me  many  pieces  of  Arabian  poetry, 
which,  I  observed,  are  in  numbers  not  unlike  ours, 
generally  alternate  verse,  and  of  a  very  musical  sound. 
Their  expressions  of  love  are  very  passionate  and  lively. 
I  am  so  much  pleased  with  them,  I  really  believe  I 
should  learn  to  read  Arabic  if  I  was  to  stay  here  a  few 
months.  He  has  a  very  good  library  of  their  books  of 
all  kinds  ;  and,  as  he  tells  me,  spends  the  greatest  part 
of  his  life  there.  I  pass  for  a  great  scholar  with  him, 
by  relating  to  him  some  of  the  Persian  tales,  which  I 
find  are  genuine."^  At  first  he  believed  I  understood 
Persian.  I  have  frequent  disputes  with  him  concerning 
the  difference  of  our  customs,  particularly  the  confine- 
ment of  women.  He  assures  me  there  is  nothing  at  all 
in  it ;  only,  says  he,  we  have  the  advantage,  that  when 
our  wives  cheat  us  nobody  knows  it.  He  has  wit,  and 
is  more  polite  than  many  Christian  men  of  quality.  I 
*  Translated  by  Petit  de  la  Croix. 


yS  The  Embassy  to   Ttirkcy 

am  very  much  entertained  with  him.  He  has  had  the 
curiosity  to  make  one  of  our  servants  set  him  an 
alphabet  of  our  letters,  and  can  already  write  a  good 
Roman  hand." 

After  awaiting  orders  some  time  at  Belgrade,  the 
Embassy  moved  on  by  Nish,  Sofia,  and  Philippopolis 
to  Adrianople,  a  country,  as  it  seemed  to  Lady  Mary, 
"the  finest  in  the  world."  ''But  this  climate,"  so  she 
writes  in  a  rather  stiff  letter  to  Princess  Caroline,  "as 
happy  as  it  seems,  can  never  be  preferred  to  England, 
with  all  its  snows  and  frosts,  while  we  are  blessed  with 
an  easy  government,  under  a  King  who  makes  his  own 
happiness  consist  in  the  liberty  of  his  people,  and 
chooses  rather  to  be  looked  upon  as  their  father  than 
as  their  master."  Perhaps  Lady  Mary  expected  this 
letter  to  be  opened  in  the  post ;  for  we  may  imagine 
that  this  was  hardly  her  private  opinion  of  George  I., 
still  less  the  opinion  of  his  daughter-in-law. 

Somewhat  curious  is  Lady  Mary's  first  experience  of 
a  Turkish  bath,  sent  ostensibly  to  a  lady  unnamed : 

"  I  won't  trouble  you  with  a  relation  of  our  tedious 
journey;  but  I  must  not  omit  what  I  saw  remarkable 
at  Sophia,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  towns  in  the 
Turkish  empire,  and  famous  for  its  hot  baths,  that  are 
resorted  to  both  for  diversion  and  health.  I  stopped 
here  one  day  on  purpose  to  see  them.  Designing  to  go 
incognita,  I  hired  a  Turkish  coach.  These  voitures  are 
not  at  all  like  ours,  but  much  more  convenient  for  the 
country,  the  heat  being  so  great  that  glasses  would  be 
very  troublesome.     They  are  made  a  good  deal  in  the 


The  Embassy  to   Turkey  79 

manner  of  the  Dutch  coaches,  having  wooden  lattices 
painted  and  gilded ;  the  inside  being  painted  with 
baskets  and  nosegays  of  flowers,  intermixed  commonly 
with  little  poetical  mottoes.  They  are  covered  all  over 
with  scarlet  cloth,  lined  with  silk,  and  very  often  richly 
embroidered  and  fringed.  This  covering  entirely  hides 
the  persons  in  them,  but  may  be  thrown  back  at 
pleasure,  and  the  ladies  peep  through  the  lattices. 
They  hold  four  people  very  conveniently,  seated  on 
cushions,  but  not  raised. 

**  In  one  of  these  covered  waggons,  I  went  to  the 
bagnio  about  ten  o^clock.  It  was  already  full  of  women. 
It  is  built  of  stone,  in  the  shape  of  a  dome,  with  no 
windows  but  in  the  roof,  which  gives  light  enough, 
There  were  five  of  these  domes  joined  together,  the 
outmost  being  less  than  the  rest,  and  serving  only  as  a 
hall,  where  the  portress  stood  at  the  door.  Ladies  of 
quality  generally  give  this  woman  the  value  of  a  crown 
or  ten  shillings ;  and  I  did  not  forget  that  ceremony. 
The  next  room  is  a  very  large  one  paved  with  marble, 
and  all  round  it,  raised,  two  sofas  of  marble,  one  above 
another.  There  were  four  fountains  of  cold  water  in 
this  room,  falling  first  into  marble  basins,  and  then 
running  on  the  floor  in  little  channels  made  for  that 
purpose,  which  carried  the  streams  into  the  next  room, 
something  less  than  this,  with  the  same  sort  of  marble 
sofas,  but  so  hot  with  steams  of  sulphur  proceeding 
from  the  baths  joining  to  it,  it  was  impossible  to  stay 
there  with  one's  clothes  on.  The  two  other  domes  were 
the  hot  baths,  one  of  which  had  cocks  of  cold  water 


^o  The  EiJibassy  to    Turkey 

turning  into  it,  to  temper  it  to  what  degree  of  warmth 
the  bathers  have  a  mind  to. 

"  I  was  in  my  travelling  habit,  which  is  a  riding 
dress,  and  certainly  appeared  very  extraordinary  to 
them.  Yet  there  was  not  one  of  them  who  showed  the 
least  surprise  or  impertinent  curiosity,  but  received  me 
with  all  the  obliging  civility  possible.  I  know  no 
European  Court  where  the  ladies  would  have  behaved 
themselves  in  so  polite  a  manner  to  a  stranger.  I  be- 
lieve, in  the  whole,  there  were  two  hundred  women, 
and  yet  none  of  those  disdainful  smiles,  or  satiric 
whispers,  that  never  fail  in  our  assemblies  when  any- 
body appears  that  is  not  exactly  in  the  fashion.  They 
repeated  over  and  over  to  me,  '  Uzelle,  pek  uzelle,' 
which  is  nothing  but '  Charming,  very  charming.'  The 
first  sofas  w^ere  covered  with  cushions  and  rich  carpets, 
on  w^hich  sat  the  ladies ;  and  on  the  second,  their 
slaves  behind  them.  There  w^ere  many  amongst 
them  as  exactly  proportioned  as  ever  any  goddess 
was  drawn  by  the  pencil  of  Guido  or  Titian  —  and 
most  of  their  skins  shiningly  white,  only  adorned  by 
their  beautiful  hair  divided  into  many  tresses,  hanging 
on  their  shoulders,  braided  either  with  pearl  or  ribbon, 
perfectly  representing  the  figures  of  the  Graces. 
,  '*  Some  were  in  conversation,  some  working,  others 
drinking  coffee  or  sherbet,  and  many  negligently 
lying  on  their  cushions,  while  their  slaves  (generally 
pretty  girls  of  seventeen  or  eighteen)  were  employed  in 
braiding  their  hair  in  several  pretty  fancies.  In  short, 
it  is  the  women's  coffee-house,  where  all  the  news  of 


The  Embassy  to   Ttir/cey  8i 

the  town  is  told,  scandal  invented,  etc.  They  generally 
take  this  diversion  once  a-week,  and  stay  there  at  least 
four  or  five  hours,  without  getting  cold  by  immediate 
coming  out  of  the  hot  bath  into  the  cold  room,  which 
was  very  surprising  to  me." 

Lady  Mary  saw  the  Sultan,  Achmet  III.,  at  Adrian- 
ople,  where  he  was  residing  in  the  spring  of  1717. 

**  I  went  yesterday  with  the  French  Embassadress* 
to  see  the  Grand  Signiorf  in  his  passage  to  the  mosque. 
He  was  preceded  by  a  numerous  guard  of  janissaries, 
with  vast  white  feathers  on  their  heads,  spahis  and 
bostangees  (these  are  foot  and  horse  guard),  and  the  royal 
gardeners,  which  are  a  very  considerable  body  of  men, 
dressed  in  different  habits  of  fine  lively  colours,  that,  at 
a  distance,  they  appeared  like  a  parterre  of  tulips. 
After  them  the  aga  of  the  janissaries,  in  a  robe  of  purple 
velvet,  lined  with  silver  tissue,  his  horse  led  by  two 
slaves  richly  dressed.  Next  him  the  kyzldr-aga  (your 
ladyship  knows  this  is  the  chief  guardian  of  the  seraglio 
ladies)  in  a  deep  yellow  cloth  (which  suited  very  well 
to  his  black  face)  lined  with  sables,  and  last  his  Sub- 
limity himself,  in  green  lined  with  the  fur  of  a  black 
Muscovite  fox,  which  is  supposed  worth  a  thousand 
pounds  sterling,  mounted  on  a  fine  horse,  with  furniture 
embroidered  with  jewels.  Six  more  horses  richly  fur- 
nished were  led  after  him  ;  and  two  of  his  principal 
courtiers  bore,  one  his  gold,  and  the  other  his  silver 
coffee-pot,  on  a  staff;  another  carried  a  silver  stool  on 
his  head  for  him  to  sit  on. 

^  Madame  de  Bonnac.  f  Sultan  Achmet  III. 

6 


82  The  Embassy  to    Turkey 

*'  It  would  be  too  tedious  to  tell  your  ladyship  the 
various  dresses  and  turbans  by  which  their  rank  is  dis- 
tinguished ;  but  they  were  all  extremely  rich  and  gay,  to 
the  number  of  some  thousands  ;  [so]  that,  perhaps, 
there  cannot  be  seen  a  more  beautiful  procession.  The 
Sultan  appeared  to  us  a  handsome  man  of  about  forty, 
with  a  very  graceful  air,  but  something  severe  in  his 
countenance,  his  eyes  very  full  and  black.  He  hap- 
pened to  stop  under  the  window  where  we  stood,  and 
(I  suppose  being  told  who  we  were)  looked  upon  us  very 
attentively,  [so]  that  we  had  fall  leisure  to  consider  him^ 
and  the  French  Embassadress  agreed  with  me  as  to  his 
good  mien  :  I  see  that  lady  very  often  ;  she  is  young, 
and  her  conversation  would  be  a  great  relief  to  me,  if  1 
could  persuade  her  to  live  without  those  forms  and 
ceremonies  that  make  life  formal  and  tiresome.  But 
she  is  so  delighted  with  her  guards,  her  four-and-twenty 
footmen,  gentlemen  ushers,  etc.,  that  she  would  rather 
die  than  make  me  a  visit  without  them  :  not  to  reckon  a 
coachful  of  attending  damsels  yclep'd  maids  of  honour. 
What  vexes  me  is,  that  as  long  as  she  will  visit  with  a 
troublesome  equipage,  I  am  obliged  to  do  the  same  : 
however,  our  mutual  interest  makes  us  much  together. 

''  I  went  with  her  the  other  day  all  round  the  town, 
in  an  open  gilt  chariot,  with  our  joint  train  of  atten- 
dants, preceded  by  our  guards,  who  might  have  sum- 
moned the  people  to  see  what  they  had  never  seen,  nor 
ever  would  see  again — two  young  Christian  embassa- 
dresses  never  yet  having  been  in  this  country  at  the 
same  time,  nor  I  believe  ever  will  aq'ain.     Your  ladv- 


TJie  Embassy  to    Turkey  83 

ship  may  easily  imagine  that  we  drew  a  vast  crowd  of 
spectators,  but  all  silent  as  death.     If  any  of  them  had 
taken  the  liberties  of  our  mob  upon  any  strange  sight, 
our  janissaries  had  made  no  scruple  of  falling  on  them 
with  their  scimitars,  without  danger  for  so  doing,  being 
above  law.     Yet  these  people  have  some  good  quali- 
ties ;    they  are  very  zealous  and  faithful  where  they 
serve,  and  look  upon  it  as  their  business  to  fight  for 
you  upon  all  occasions.     Of  this  I  had  a  very  pleasant 
instance  in  a  village  on  this  side  Philippopolis,  where  we 
were    met    by   our   domestic   guard.      I    happened   to 
bespeak  pigeons  for  my  supper,  upon  which  one  of  my 
janissaries  went  immediately  to  the  cadi  (the  chief  civil 
officer  of  the  town),  and  ordered  him  to  send  in  some 
dozens.     The  poor  man  answered,  that  he  had  already 
sent  about,  but  could  get  none.     My  janissary,  in  the 
height  of  his  zeal  for  my  service,  immediately  locked 
him  up  prisoner  in  his  room,  telling  him  he  deserved 
death  for  his  impudence,  in  offering  to  excuse  his  not 
obeying  my  command  ;  but,  out  of  respect  to  me,  he 
would  not  punish  him  but  by  my  order,  and  accord- 
ingly, came  very  gravely  to  me,  to  ask  what  should  be 
done  to  him  ;  adding,  by  way  of  compliment,  that  if  I 
pleased  he  would  bring  me  his  head. — This  may  give 
you  some  idea  of  the  unlimited  power  of  these  fellows, 
who  are  all  sworn  brothers,  and  bound  to  revenge  the 
injuries  done  to  one  another,  whether  at  Cairo,  Aleppo, 
or  any  part  of  the  world  ;  and  this  inviolable  league 
makes  them  so  powerful,  the  greatest  man  at  the  Court 
never  speaks  to  them  but  in  a  flattering  tone ;  and   in 

6 — 2 


84  The  Embassy  to   Ttirkey 

Asia,  any  man  that  is  rich  is  forced  to  enrol  himself  a 
janissary,  to  secure  his  estate." 

At  Adrianople  she  also  adopted  the  Turkish  dress, 
which  she  described  to  her  sister  at  length,  from 
slippers  to  aigrette. 

Her  classical  recollections  were  awakened  by  the 
pastoral  simplicity  and  Greek  customs  of  the  countr3\ 

*'  I  am  at  this  present  writing  in  a  house  situated  on 
the  banks  of  the  Hebrus,  which  runs  under  my  chamber 
window.     My  garden  is  full  of  tall  cypress-trees,  upon 
the     branches     of     which     several     couple     of     true 
turtles   are   saying   soft   things   to   one    another   from 
morning   to    night.       How    naturally   do    boughs    and 
vows  come  into  my  head  at  this  minute !    and  must 
not   you    confess,   to  my  praise,  that  'tis    more   than 
ordinary  discretion  that  can  resist  the  wicked  sugges- 
tions of  poetry,  in  a  place  where  truth,  for  once,  fur- 
nishes  all   the    ideas    of   pastoral?      The    summer   is 
already  far  advanced  in  this  part  of  the  world ;  and, 
for  some  miles  round  Adrianople,  the  whole  ground  is 
laid  out  in  gardens,  and  the  banks  of  the  river  set  with 
rows  of  fruit-trees,  under  which  all  the  most  consider- 
able Turks  divert  themselves  every  evening ;  not  with 
walking,  that  is  not  one  of  their  pleasures,  but  a  set 
party  of  them  choose  out  a  green  spot,  where  the  shade 
is  very  thick,  and  there  they  spread  a  carpet,  on  which 
they  sit  drinking  their  coffee,  and  generally  attended 
by  some  slave  with  a  fine  voice,  or  that  plays  on  some 
instrument.     Every  twenty  paces  you  may  see  one  of 
these  little  companies  listening  to  the  dashing  of  the 


The  Embassy  to   Titrkey  85 

river  ;  and  this  taste  is  so  universal,  that  the  very 
gardeners  are  not  without  it.  I  have  often  seen  them 
and  their  children  sitting  on  the  banks,  and  playing  on 
a  rural  instrument,  perfectly  answering  the  description 
of  the  ancient  fisUila,  being  composed  of  unequal  reeds 
with  a  simple  but  agreeable  softness  in  the  sound."" 

This  extract  is  from  a  letter  supposed  to  be  written 
to  Pope;  and  as  his  translation  of  the  "Iliad"  was 
now  appearing,  his  correspondent  must,  of  course,  refer 
to  those  Greek  poets  of  wliom  her  knowledge  was  but 
slight — as  appears  by  her  reference  to  Theocritus,  in 
which  she  seems  to  forget  that  the  pastoral  life  he  de- 
scribed was  that  of  Sicily. 

"  I  no  longer  look  upon  Theocritus  as  a  romantic 
writer;  he  has  only  given  a  plain  image  of  the  way  of 
life  amongst  the  peasants  of  his  country ;  who,  before 
oppression  had  reduced  them  to  want,  were,  I  suppose, 
all  employed  as  the  better  sort  of  them  are  now.  I 
don't  doubt,  had  he  been  born  a  Briton,  his  Idylliiims 
had  been  filled  with  descriptions  of  threshing  and 
churning,  both  which  are  unknown  here,  the  corn 
being  all  trod  out  by  oxen  ;  and  butter  (I  speak  it  with 
sorrow)  unheard  of. 

"  I  read  over  your  Homer  here  with  an  infinite 
pleasure,  and  find  several  little  passages  explained, 
that  I  did  not  before  entirely  comprehend  the  beauty 
of;  many  of  the  customs,  and  much  of  the  dress  then 
in  fashion,  being  yet  retained,  and  I  don't  wonder  to 
find  more  remains  here  of  an  age  so  distant,  than  is  to 
be  found  in  any  other  country,  the  Turks  not  taking 


86  The  Embassy  to    Turkey 

that  pains  to  introduce  their  own  manners  as  has  been 
generally  practised  by  other  nations,  that  imagine  them- 
selves more  polite.  It  would  be  too  tedious  to  you  to 
point  out  all  the  passages  that  relate  to  the  present 
customs.  But  I  can  assure  you  that  the  princesses  and 
great  ladies  pass  their  time  at  their  looms,  embroider- 
ing veils  and  robes,  surrounded  by  their  maids,  which 
are  always  very  numerous,  in  the  same  mianner  as  we 
find  Andromache  and  Helen  described.  The  descrip- 
tion of  the  belt  of  Menelaus  exactly  resembles  those 
that  are  now  worn  by  the  great  men,  fastened  before 
with  broad  golden  clasps,  and  embroidered  round  with 
rich  work.  The  snowy  veil  that  Helen  throws  over 
her  face  is  still  fashionable ;  and  I  never  see  (as  I  do 
very  often)  half  a  dozen  of  old  pashas  with  their  reverend 
beards,  sitting  basking  in  the  sun,  but  I  recollect  good 
King  Priam  and  his  counsellors.  Their  manner  of 
dancing  is  certainly  the  same  that  Diana  is  sung  to 
have  danced  on  the  banks  of  the  Eurotas.  The  great 
lady  still  leads  the  dance,  and  is  followed  by  a  troop  of 
young  girls,  who  imitate  her  steps,  and,  if  she  sings, 
make  up  the  chorus.  The  tunes  are  extremely  gay  and 
lively,  yet  with  something  in  them  wonderfully  soft. 
The  steps  are  varied  according  to  the  pleasure  of  her 
that  leads  the  dance,  but  always  in  exact  time,  and 
infinitely  more  agreeable  than  any  of  our  dances,  at 
least  in  my  opinion.  I  sometimes  make  one  in  the 
train,  but  am  not  skilful  enough  to  lead  ;  these  are 
Grecian  dances,  the  Turkish  being  very  different." 
It  is  in  a  letter  from  Adrianople,  dated  like  the  rest. 


The  E7nbassy  to   Turkey  87 

April  I,  1 7 17  (old  style),  Lady  Mary  gives  an  account 
of  the  process  of  inoculation  for  the  small-pox,  which 
she  afterwards  introduced  into  England.  She  calls  the 
practice  "ingrafting." 

"/I  propos  of  distempers,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a 
thing  that  I  am  sure  will  make  you  wish  yourself  here. 
The  small-pox,  so  fatal,  and  so  general  amongst  us,  is 
here  entirely  harmless  by  the  invention  of  ingrafting, 
which  is  the  term  they  give  it.  There  is  a  set  of  old 
women  who  make  it  their  business  to  perform  the 
operation  every  autumn,  in  the  month  of  September, 
when  the  great  heat  is  abated.  People  send  to  one 
another  to  know  if  any  of  their  family  has  a  mind  to 
have  the  small-pox  :  they  make  parties  for  this  purpose, 
and  when  they  are  met  (commonly  fifteen  or  sixteen 
together),  the  old  woman  comes  with  a  nut-shell  full  of 
the  matter  of  the  best  sort  of  small- pox,  and  asks  what 
veins  you  please  to  have  opened.  She  immediately 
rips  open  that  you  offer  to  her  with  a  large  needle 
(which  gives  you  no  more  pain  than  a  common  scratch), 
and  puts  into  the  vein  as  much  venom  as  can  lie  upon 
the  head  of  her  needle,  and  after  binds  up  the  little 
wound  with  a  hollow  bit  of  shell ;  and  in  this  manner 
opens  four  or  five  veins.  The  Grecians  have  com- 
monly the  superstition  of  opening  one  in  the  middle  of 
the  forehead,  in  each  arm,  and  on  the  breast,  to  mark 
the  sign  of  the  cross  ;  but  this  has  a  very  ill  effect,  all 
these  wounds  leaving  little  scars,  and  is  not  done  by 
those  that  are  not  superstitious,  who  choose  to  have 
them  in  the  legs,  or  that  part  of  the  arm  that  is  con- 


88  TJie  Embassy  to   Tu7'key 

cealed.  The  children  or  young  patients  play  together 
all  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  are  in  perfect  health  to  the 
eighth.  Then  the  fever  begins  to  seize  them,  and  they 
keep  their  beds  two  days,  very  seldom  three.  They 
have  very  rarely  above  twenty  or  thirty  in  their  faces, 
which  never  mark ;  and  in  eight  days'  time  they  are  as 
well  as  before  their  illness.  Where  they  are  wounded, 
there  remain  running  sores  during  the  distemper,  which 
I  don't  doubt  is  a  great  relief  to  it.  Every  year  thou- 
sands undergo  this  operation  :  and  the  French  Embas- 
sador says  pleasantly,  that  they  take  the  small-pox  here 
by  way  of  diversion,  as  they  take  the  waters  in  other 
countries." 

If  Lady  Louisa  Stuart's  account  of  the  grudging 
reception  of  inoculation  by  the  medical  profession  is 
correct.  Lady  Mary's  letter  was  indeed  prophetic. 

'*  I  am  patriot  enough  to  take  pains  to  bring  this 
useful  invention  into  fashion  in  England  ;  and  I  should 
not  fail  to  write  to  some  of  our  doctors  very  particularly 
about  it,  if  I  knew  any  one  of  them  that  I  thought  had 
virtue  enough  to  destroy  such  a  considerable  branch  of 
their  revenue  for  the  good  of  mankind.  But  that  dis- 
temper is  too  beneficial  to  them  not  to  expose  to  all 
their  resentment  the  hardy  wight  that  should  under- 
take to  put  an  end  to  it.  Perhaps,  if  I  live  to  return, 
I  may,  however,  have  courage  to  war  with  them." 

While  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu  was  negotiating  with 
the  Grand  Vizier,  Azem,  and  telling  the  Turks  "  plain 
truths,"  his  wife  paid  visits  to  the  great  Turkish  ladies, 
not,  indeed,  being  admitted  to  the  harem  of  the  Grand 


The   Embassy  to   Turkey  89 

Signior,  though  more  or  less  scandalous  rumours  after- 
wards asserted  that  she  had  enjoyed  that  privilege. 
But  she  visited  the  wife  of  the  Grand  Vizier  and  also 
the  fair  Fatima,  wife  of  the  ''  Kiyaya,"  or  deputy  of  the 
Vizier.  With  the  latter  lady  she  was  quite  enraptured. 
''  I  was  met  at  the  door  by  two  black  eunuchs,  who  led 
me  through  a  long  gallery  between  two  ranks  of 
beautiful  young  girls,  with  their  hair  finely  plaited, 
almost  hanging  to  their  feet,  all  dressed  in  fine  light 
damasks,  brocaded  with  silver.  I  was  sorry  that 
decency  did  not  permit  me  to  stop  to  consider  them 
nearer.  But  that  thought  was  lost  upon  my  entrance 
into  a  large  room,  or  rather  pavihon,  built  round  with 
gilded  sashes,  which  were  most  of  them  thrown  up, 
and  the  trees  planted  near  them  gave  an  agreeable 
shade,  which  hindered  the  sun  from  being  troublesome. 
The  jessamines  and  honeysuckles  that  twisted  round 
their  trunks,  shedding  a  soft  perfume,  increased  by  a 
white  marble  fountain  playing  sweet  water  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  room,  which  fell  into  three  or  four  basins 
with  a  pleasing  sound.  The  roof  was  painted  with  all 
sort  of  flowers,  falling  out  of  gilded  baskets,  that  seemed 
tumbling  down.  On  a  sofa,  raised  three  steps,  and 
covered  with  fine  Persian  carpets,  sat  the  Kiyaya's  lady, 
leaning  on  cushions  of  white  satin,  embroidered  ;  and 
at  her  feet  sat  two  young  girls,  the  eldest  about  twelve 
years  old,  lovely  as  angels,  dressed  perfectly  rich,  and 
almost  covered  with  jewels.  But  they  were  hardly 
seen  near  the  fair  Fatima  (for  that  is  her  name),  so 
much  her  beauty  effaced   everything.     I   have  seen  all 


QO  The  Embassy  to   Turkey 

that  has  been  called  lovely  either  in  England  or 
German}',  and  must  own  that  I  never  saw  anything  so 
gloriously  beautiful,  nor  can  I  recollect  a  face  that 
would  have  been  taken  notice  of  near  hers.  She  stood 
up  to  receive  me,  saluting  me  after  their  fashion, 
putting  her  hand  upon  her  heart  with  a  sweetness  full 
of  majesty,  that  no  Court  breeding  could  ever  give. 
She  ordered  cushions  to  be  given  to  me,  and  took  care 
to  place  me  in  the  corner,  which  is  the  place  of  honour. 
I  confess,  though  the  Greek  lady  had  before  given  me 
a  great  opinion  of  her  beauty,  I  was  so  struck  with 
admiration,  that  I  could  not  for  some  time  speak  to 
her,  being  wholly  taken  up  in  gazing.  That  surprising 
harmony  of  features!  that  charming  result  of  the 
whole  !  that  exact  proportion  of  body !  that  lovely 
bloom  of  complexion  unsullied  by  art !  the  unutterable 
enchantment  of  her  smile  !  But  her  eyes! — large  and 
black,  with  all  the  soft  languishment  of  the  blue  !  every 
turn  of  her  face  discovering  some  new  charm." 

The  Sultan  soon  moved  his  camp  from  Adrianople, 
in  readiness  for  the  campaign  of  1717  ;  but  before 
moving  there  was  a  procession  of  the  tradesmen  of 
Adrianople,  who  were  forced  by  custom  to  m.ake  a 
present  to  the  Sultan  when  he  took  the  field  in  person. 
The  description  purports  to  be  written  to  the  Abbe 
Conti,  an  Italian  man  of  letters,  whose  acquaintance 
Lady  Mary  had  made  in  England. 

"  I  took  the  pains  of  rising  at  six  in  the  morning  to 
see  that  ceremon}-,  which  did  not,  however,  begin  till 
eight.     The  Grand  Signior  was  at  the  seraglio  window, 


The  E7nbassy  to   Tttrkty  91 

to  see  the  procession,  which  passed  through  all  the 
principal  streets.  It  was  preceded  by  an  effendi 
mounted  on  a  camel,  richly  furnished,  reading  aloud 
the  Alcoran,  finely  bound,  laid  upon  a  cushion.  He 
was  surrounded  by  a  parcel  of  boys,  in  white,  singing 
some  verses  of  it,  followed  by  a  man  dressed  in  green 
boughs,  representing  a  clean  husbandman  sowing  seed. 
After  him  several  reapers,  with  garlands  of  ears  of  corn, 
as  Ceres  is  pictured,  with  scythes  in  their  hands, 
seeming  to  mow.  Then  a  little  machine  drawn  by 
oxen,  in  which  was  a  windmill,  and  boys  employed  in 
grinding  corn,  followed  by  another  machine,  drawn  by 
buffaloes,  carrying  an  oven,  and  two  more  boys,  one 
employed  in  kneading  the  bread,  and  another  in  draw- 
ing it  out  of  the  oven.  These  boys  threw  little  cakes 
on  both  sides  among  the  crowd,  and  were  followed  by 
the  whole  company  of  bakers,  marching  on  foot,  two 
and  two,  in  their  best  clothes,  with  cakes,  loaves, 
pasties,  and  pies  of  all  sorts  on  their  heads,  and  after 
them  two  buffoons,  or  jack-puddings,  with  their  faces 
and  clothes  smeared  with  meal,  who  diverted  the  mob 
with  their  antic  gestures.  In  the  same  manner  followed 
all  the  companies  of  trade  in  their  empire ;  the  nobler 
sort,  such  as  jewellers,  mercers,  etc.,  finely  mounted, 
and  many  of  the  pageants  that  represented  their  trades 
perfectly  magnificent ;  among  which  the  furriers'  made 
one  of  the  great  figures,  being  a  very  large  machine, 
set  round  with  the  skins  of  ermines,  foxes,  etc.,  so  well 
stuffed,  the  animals  seemed  to  be  alive,  followed  by 
music   and   dancers.      I   believe    they  were,   upon  the 


92  The  Embassy  to    Tiirkey 

whole,  at  least  twenty  thousand  men,  all  ready  to 
follow  his  highness  if  he  commanded  them.  The  rear 
was  closed  by  the  volunteers,  who  came  to  beg  the 
honour  of  dying  in  his  service.  This  part  of  the  show 
seemed  to  me  so  barbarous,  I  removed  from  the  window 
upon  the  first  appearance  of  it.  They  were  all  naked 
to  the  middle.  Some  had  their  arms  pierced  through 
with  arrows,  left  sticking  in  them.  Others  had  them 
sticking  in  their  heads,  the  blood  trickling  down  their 
faces,  and  some  slashed  their  arms  with  sharp  knives, 
making  the  blood  spout  out  upon  those  that  stood 
near  ;  and  this  is  looked  upon  as  an  expression  of  their 
zeal  for  glory.  I  am  told  that  some  make  use  of  it  to 
advance  their  love  ;  and,  when  they  are  near  the  window 
where  their  mistress  stands  (all  the  women  in  town 
being  veiled  to  see  this  spectacle),  they  stick  another 
arrow  for  her  sake,  who  gives  some  sign  of  approbation 
and  encouragement  to  this  gallantry.  The  whole  show 
lasted  near  eight  hours,  to  my  great  sorrow,  who  was 
heartily  tired,  though  I  was  in  the  house  of  the  widow 
of  the  Capitain-pasha  (Admiral),  who  refreshed  me  with 
coffee,  sweetmeats,  sherbet,  etc.,  with  all  possible 
civility." 

When  the  camp  moved  from  Adrianople,the  Embassy 
went  on  to  Constantinople,  where  Lady  Mary  was 
lodged  in  the  ambassadorial  palace  at  Pera.  She  was 
eager  to  investigate  not  only  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  day,  but  all  antiquities  she  could  find,  but  without 
much  help  from  local  antiquaries. 

'*  I  have  already  made  some  progress  in  a  collection 


The  Embassy  to   Ttti^key  93 

of   Greek  medals.     Here   are   several    professed    anti- 
quaries who  are  ready  to  serve  any  body  that  desires 
them.     But  you  cannot  imagine  how  they  stare  in  my 
face  when  I  inquire  about  them,  as  if  nobody  was  per- 
mitted to  seek  after  medals  till  they  were  grown  a 
piece  of  antiquity  themselves.     I  have  got  some  very 
valuable  of  the  Macedonian  kings,  particularly  one  of 
Perseus,  so  lively,  I  fancy  I  can  see  all  his  ill  qualities 
in  his  face.     I  have  a  porphyry  head,  finely  cut,  of  the 
true  Greek  sculpture,  but  who  it  represents  is  to  be 
guessed  at  by  the  learned  when  I  return.     For  you  are 
not  to  suppose  these  antiquaries,  who  are  all  Greeks, 
know  anything.     Their  trade    is   only  to    sell.     They 
have    correspondents    at    Aleppo,     Grand    Cairo,    in 
Arabia  and   Palestine,   who  send  them    all   they  can 
find,  and  very  often  great  heaps  that  are  only  fit  to 
melt  into  pans  and  kettles.     They  get  the  best  price 
they  can  for  any  of  them,  without  knowing  those  that 
are   valuable    from    those   that    are    not.     Those   that 
pretend  to  skill  generally  find  out  the  image  of  some 
saint  in  the  medals  of  the  Greek  cities.     One  of  them, 
showing  me  the  figure  of  a  Pallas,  with  a  victory  in 
her  hand  on  a  reverse,  assured  me  it  was  the  Virgin 
holding  a  crucifix.     The    same    man   offered    me    the 
head  of  a  Socrates  on  a  sardonyx,  and,   to  enhance 
the  value,  gave  him  the  title  of  St.  Augustin." 

When  the  summer  heats  set  in.  Lady  Mary  retired 
to  the  village  of  Belgrade,  near  Constantinople  ;  as 
she  writes  to  Pope  : 

"The  heats  of  Constantinople  have   driven   me  to 


94  ^/^^  Embassy  to   Turkey 

this  place,  which  perfectly  answers  the  description  of 
the  Elysian  fields.  I  am  in  the  middle  of  a  wood, 
consisting  chiefly  of  fruit-trees,  watered  by  a  vast 
number  of  fountains,  famous  for  the  excellency  of 
their  water,  and  divided  into  many  shady  walks  upon 
short  grass  that  seems  to  be  artificial,  but,  I  am 
assured,  is  the  pure  work  of  nature ;  within  view  of 
the  Black  Sea,  from  whence  we  perpetually  enjoy  the 
refreshment  of  cool  breezes,  that  make  us  insensible 
of  the  heat  of  the  summer.  The  village  is  only  in- 
habited by  the  richest  amongst  the  Christians,  who 
meet  every  night  at  a  fountain  forty  paces  from  my 
house  to  sing  and  dance,  the  beauty  and  dress  of  the 
women  exactly  resembling  the  ideas  of  the  ancient 
nymphs  as  they  are  given  us  by  the  representations 
of  the  poets  and  painters.  But  what  persuades  me 
more  fully  of  my  decease  is  the  situation  of  my  own 
mind,  the  profound  ignorance  I  am  in  of  what  passes 
among  the  living  (which  only  comes  to  me  by  chance), 
and  the  great  calmness  with  which  I  receive  it.  Yet 
I  have  still  a  hankering  after  my  friends  and  acquaint- 
ance left  in  the  world,  according  to  the  authority  of 
that  admirable  author : 

"  'That  spirits  departed  are  wondrous  kind 
To  friends  and  relations  left  behind  : 

Which  nobody  can  deny ' 

— of  which  solemn  truth  I  am  a  dead  instance.  1 
think  Virgil  is  of  the  same  opinion,  that  in  human 
souls  there  will  still  be  some  remains  of  human  pas- 
sions : 

"  ' Cura:  non  ipsa  in  morte  relinquunt.' 


The  Embassy  to   Tiirkey  95 

And  'tis  very  necessary,  to  make  a  perfect  Elysium, 
that  there  should  be  a  river  Lethe,  which  I  am  not 
so  happy  to  find." 

Some  of  Lady  Mary's  English  correspondents  were 
rather  exacting  in  their  commissions  to  her,  and  had 
a  wide  and  vague  idea  of  the  resources  of  the  East. 
Pope's  request  for  a  Circassian  beauty  with  every 
possible  accomplishment  was  not  meant  to  be  taken 
seriously ;  but  some  other  friend  seems  to  have  asked 
for  a  Greek  slave,  which  gave  occasion  for  a  disserta- 
tion on  the  position  of  the  rayahs.  The  *'  balm  of 
Mecca  "  was  also  much  in  demand  for  the  complexion, 
though  Lady  Mary  tried  it  on  her  own  face  with  dis- 
astrous results. 

In  wandering  about  Constantinople  in  Turkish  dress, 
in  antiquarian  research  or  Oriental  study,  the  year 
1717  passed  away  pleasantly.  The  terrors  of  an 
English  winter  were  unknown  at  Pera. 

*'  The  climate  is  delightful  in  the  extremest  degree. 
I  am  now  sitting,  this  present  fourth  of  January,  with 
the  windows  open,  enjoying  the  warm  shine  of  the  sun, 
while  you  are  freezing  over  a  sad  sea-coal  fire,  and  my 
chamber  set  out  with  carnations,  roses  and  jonquils 
fresh  from  my  garden.  I  am  also  charmed  with  many 
points  of  the  Turkish  law,  to  our  shame  be  it  spoken, 
better  designed  and  better  executed  than  ours,  par- 
ticularly the  punishment  of  convicted  liars  (triumphant 
criminals  in  our  country,  God  knows)  :  they  are  burnt 
in  the  forehead  with  a  hot  iron,  being  proved  the 
authors  of  any  notorious  falsehood.     How  many  white 


g6  The  Embassy  to   Tiirkey 

foreheads  should  we  see  disfigured,  how  many  fine 
gentlemen  would  be  forced  to  wear  their  wigs  as  low 
as  their  eyebrows,  were  this  law  in  practice  with  us !" 

Early  in  1718  was  born  Lady  Mary's  daughter 
Mary,  afterwards  Countess  of  Bute.  By  this  time 
her  husband  must  have  been  preparing  to  depart  soon, 
as  he  had  received  an  intimation  of  his  recall  from 
his  friend  Addison  in  the  autumn  of  1717.  His  delay 
at  Constantinople  till  his  successor  should  arrive  gave 
Lady  Mary  the  opportunity  of  renewing  her  acquaint- 
ance with  the  fair  Fatima,  and  of  calling  on  the 
Sultana  Hafiten,  favourite  of  the  late  Sultan,  whose 
dress  and  diamonds  defied  valuation. 

These  visits  gave  her  an  opinion  of  the  position  of 
Turkish  women  far  different  from  that  stated  by  most 
travellers  of  the  time  : 

"  'Tis  very  pleasant  to  observe  how  tenderly  all  the 
voyage-writers  lament  the  miserable  confinement  of  the 
Turkish  ladies,  who  are  perhaps  freer  than  any  ladies  in 
the  universe,  and  are  the  onlv  women  in  the  world  that 
lead  a  life  of  uninterrupted  pleasure  exempt  from  cares; 
their  whole  time  being  spent  in  visiting,  bathing,  or  the 
agreeable  amusement  of  spending  money,  and  inventing 
new  fashions.  A  husband  would  be  thought  mad  that 
exacted  any  degree  of  economy  from  his  wife,  whose 
expenses  are  no  way  limited  but  by  her  own  fancy.  'Tis 
his  business  to  get  money,  and  hers  to  spend  it  :  and 
this  noble  prerogative  extends  itself  to  the  very  meanest 
of  the  sex.  Here  is  a  fellow  that  carries  embroidered 
handkerchiefs   upon   his  back   to  sell,  as  miserable  a 


The  Embassy  to   Turkey  97 

figure  as  you  may  suppose  such  a  mean  dealer,  yet  I'll 
assure  you  his  wife  scorns  to  wear  anything  less  than 
cloth  of  gold ;  has  her  ermine  furs,  and  a  very  hand- 
some set  of  jewels  for  her  head.  They  go  abroad  when 
and  where  they  please.  'Tis  true  they  have  no  public 
places  but  the  bagnios,  and  there  can  only  be  seen  by 
their  own  sex  ;  however,  that  is  a  diversion  they  take 
great  pleasure  in." 

The  seraglio,  however,  she  did  not  enter,  though 
she  gleaned  what  particulars  she  could  from  her 
Turkish  friends.  ''  I  have  taken  care,"  she  writes  to 
her  friend  the  Countess  of  Bristol,  "to  see  as  much 
of  the  seraglio  as  is  to  be  seen.  It  is  on  a  point  of 
land  running  into  the  sea — a  palace  of  prodigious 
extent,  but  very  irregular.  The  gardens  [take  in]  a 
large  compass  of  ground,  full  of  high  cypress-trees, 
which  is  all  I  know  of  them ;  the  buildings  all  of  white 
stone,  leaded  on  top,  with  gilded  turrets  and  spires, 
which  look  very  magnificent ;  and,  indeed,  I  beheve 
there  is  no  Christian  king's  palace  half  so  large." 

Other  palaces,  however,  of  almost  as  great  magni- 
ficence as  the  Sultan's,  Lady  Mary  was  admitted  to  see, 
as  the  following  description  proves  : 

"  Human  grandeur  being  here  yet  more  unstable 
than  anywhere  else,  'tis  common  for  the  heirs  of  a 
great  three-tailed  pasha  not  to  be  rich  enough  to  keep 
in  repair  the  house  he  built ;  thus,  in  a  few  years,  they 
all  fall  to  ruin.  I  was  yesterday  to  see  that  of  the  late 
Grand  Vizier,  who  was  killed  at  Peterwaradein.  It  was 
built  to  receive  his  royal  bride,  daughter  of  the  present 

7 


98  The  Embassy  to   Ttcrkey 

Sultan,  but  he  did  not  live  to  see  her  there.  I  have  a 
great  mind  to  describe  it  to  you  ;  but  I  check  that  in- 
chnation,  knowing  very  well  that  I  cannot  give  you, 
with  my  best  description,  such  an  idea  of  it  as  I  ought. 
It  is  situated  on  one  of  the  most  delightful  parts  of  the 
canal,  wath  a  fine  wood  on  the  side  of  a  hill  behind  it. 
The  extent  of  it  is  prodigious  ;  the  guardian  assured  me 
there  are  eight  hundred  rooms  in  it  ;  I  will  not  answer 
for  that  number,  since  I  did  not  count  them  ;  but  'tis 
certain  the  number  is  very  large,  and  the  whole  adorned 
with  a  profusion  of  marble,  gilding,  and  the  most 
exquisite  painting  of  fruit  and  flowers.  The  windows 
are  all  sashed  with  the  finest  crystalline  glass  brought 
from  England  ;  and  all  the  expensive  magnificence  that 
you  can  suppose  in  a  palace  founded  by  a  vain  young 
luxurious  man,  with  the  wealth  of  a  vast  empire  at  his 
command.  But  no  part  of  it  pleased  me  better  than 
the  apartments  destined  for  the  bagnios.  There  are 
two  built  exactly  in  the  same  manner,  answering  to  one 
another ;  the  baths,  fountains,  and  pavements,  all  of 
white  marble,  the  roofs  gilt,  and  the  walls  covered  with 
Japan  china  ;  but  adjoining  to  them,  two  rooms,  the 
upper  part  of  which  is  divided  into  a  sofa  ;  in  the  four 
corners  falls  of  water  from  the  very  roof,  from  shell  to 
shell  of  white  marble,  to  the  lower  end  of  the  room, 
where  it  falls  into  a  large  basin,  surrounded  with  pipes, 
that  throw  up  the  water  as  high  as  the  room.  The 
walls  are  in  the  nature  of  lattices  ;  and,  on  the  outside 
of  them,  vines  and  woodbines  planted,  that  form  a  sort 
of  green  tapestry,  and  give  an  agreeable  obscurity  to 
these  delightful  chambers. 


The  EiJidassy  to    Turkey  99 

"  I  should  go  on  and  let  you  into  some  of  the  other 
apartments  (all  worthy  your  curiosity)  ;  but,  'tis  yet 
harder  to  describe  a  Turkish  palace  than  any  other, 
being  built  entirely  irregular.  There  is  nothing  can  be 
properly  called  front  or  wings  ;  and  though  such  a  con- 
fusion is,  I  think,  pleasing  to  the  sight,  yet  it  would  be 
very  unintelligible  in  a  letter.  I  shall  only  add,  that 
the  chamber  destined  for  the  Sultan,  when  he  visits  his 
daughter,  is  wainscoted  with  mother-of-pearl  fastened 
with  emeralds  like  nails.  There  are  others  of  mother- 
of-pearl  and  olive  wood  inlaid,  and  several  of  Japan 
china.  The  galleries,  which  are  numerous  and  very 
large,  are  adorned  with  jars  of  flowers,  and  porcelain 
dishes  of  fruit  of  all  sorts,  so  well  done  in  plaster,  and 
coloured  in  so  lively  a  manner,  that  it  has  an  enchant- 
ing effect.  The  garden  is  suitable  to  the  house,  where 
arbours,  fountains,  and  walks,  are  thrown  together  in 
an  agreeable  confusion.  There  is  no  ornament  want- 
ing, except  that  of  statues.  Thus,  you  see,  sir,  these 
people  are  not  so  unpolished  as  we  represent  them. 
'Tis  true  their  magnificence  is  of  a  different  taste  from 
ours,  and  perhaps  of  a  better.  I  am  almost  of  opinion 
they  have  a  right  notion  of  life ;  while  they  consume 
it  in  music,  gardens,  wine,  and  delicate  eating,  we  are 
tormenting  our  brains  with  some  scheme  of  politics,  or 
studying  some  science  to  which  we  can  never  attain,  or, 
if  we  do,  cannot  persuade  people  to  set  that  value  upon 
it  we  do  ourselves." 

In  such  rambles  round  Constantinople  the  time 
passed  till  the  Preston  man-of-war  came  to  take  the 

7—2 


lOO  The  Embassy  to   Turkey 

Ambassador  away.  On  June  6/17,  1718,  according 
to  the  MS.  book  of  letters — on  July  4/11,  according 
to  the  more  trustworthy  announcement  of  Mr.  Stanyan, 
the  new  Ambassador — Lady  Mary  and  her  husband 
and  family  sailed  from  Constantinople.  They  put  in 
at  Sigaeum,  where  Lady  Mary  copied  the  inscription 
of  the  Sigsean  tomb  for  her  husband ;  *'  but  the 
Greek  is  too  ancient  for  Mr.  W.'s  interpretation." 

The  long  letter  giving  an  account  of  the  journey  is 
a  sort  of  "  Childe  Harold  "  in  prose,  and  full  as  weari- 
some.    The  vessel  called  at  Tunis,   and    landed   the 
passengers  at  Genoa  August  15/26.    Thence  the  journey 
followed  the  usual  route,  through  Turin,  and  over  the 
Mont  Cenis  into  France.     Lady  Mary  called  on  the 
wife  of  Victor  Amadeus,  the  adventurous  prince  who 
first  grasped  the  royal  title  for  Savoy.     The  Queen  of 
Sicily — as  her  style  then  ran — "  entertained  me  with 
a  world  of  sweetness  and  affability,  and  seemed  mis- 
tress of  a  great  share  of  good  sense.  ...  I  returned 
her  civility  by  giving  her  the  title  of  majesty  as  often 
as   I    could,  which,    perhaps,    she   will    not   have   the 
comfort  of  hearing  many  months  longer."     Alberoni's 
plans  for  recovering  the  provinces  taken  from  Spain 
at  Utrecht  were  having  effect,  and  the  Spanish  forces 
were  now  conquering  Sicily ;    but  the  royal  title  was 
not  lost  to  the  House  of  Savoy,  though  they  had  to 
take  poor  Sardinia  in  exchange  for  rich  Sicily.     The 
journey  over  Mont  Cenis  was  not  especially  pleasant, 
though   a   certain   appreciation    of  Alpine    scenery   is 
shown  in  the  letter  recounting  it. 


The  Embassy  to   Turkey  loi 

"The  prodigious  prospect  of  mountains  covered 
with  eternal  snow,  clouds  hanging  far  below  our  feet, 
and  the  vast  cascades  tumbling  down  the  rocks  with 
a  confused  roaring,  would  have  been  solemnly  enter- 
taining to  me  if  I  had  suffered  less  from  the  extreme 
cold  that  reigns  here ;  but  the  misty  rain  which  falls 
perpetually  penetrated  even  the  thick  fur  I  was  wrapped 
in ;  and  I  was  half  dead  with  cold  before  we  got  to  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  which  was  not  till  two  hours 
after  'twas  dark.  This  hill  has  a  spacious  plain  on  the 
top  of  it,  and  a  fine  lake  there ;  but  the  descent  is  so 
steep  and  slippery,  'tis  surprising  to  see  these  chairmen 
go  so  steadily  as  they  do.  Yet  I  was  not  half  so  much 
afraid  of  breaking  my  neck,  as  I  was  of  falling  sick ; 
and  the  event  has  shewed  that  I  placed  my  fears  in  the 
right  place." 

For  the  fatigue  of  travelling  brought  on  a  serious 
fever  at  Lyons ;  though,  in  spite  of  the  doctors.  Lady 
Mary  pushed  on  as  soon  as  possible  to  Paris. 

"  The  air  of  Paris  has  already  had  a  good  effect  on 
me ;  for  I  was  never  in  better  health,  though  I  have 
been  extremely  ill  all  the  road  from  Lyons  to  this 
place.  You  may  judge  how  agreeable  the  journey  has 
been  to  me ;  which  did  not  need  that  addition  to  make 
me  dislike  it.  I  think  nothing  so  terrible  as  objects  of 
misery,  except  one  had  the  God-like  attribute  of  being 
capable  to  redress  them ;  and  all  the  country  villages 
of  France  shew  nothing  else.  While  the  post-horses 
are  changed,  the  whole  town  comes  out  to  beg,  with 
such  miserable  starved  faces,  and  thin  tattered  clothes, 


I02  The  Embassy  to   Turkey 

they  need  no  other  eloquence  to  persuade  [one  of]  the 
wretchedness  of  their  condition.  This  is  all  the  French 
magnificence  till  you  come  to  Fontainebleau.  There 
you  begin  to  think  the  kingdom  rich  when  you  are 
shewed  one  thousand  five  hundred  rooms  in  the  King's 
hunting-palace." 

In  Paris  Lady  Mary  met  her  sister,  the  Countess 
of  Mar,  who  now  lived  there  for  the  most  part  with 
her  exiled  husband.  Then  in  October,  1718,  she 
crossed  over  to  England,  after  a  last  peril  in  the 
packet. 

"  I  arrived  this  morning  at  Dover,  after  being  tossed 
a  whole  night  in  the  packet-boat,  in  so  violent  a 
manner,  that  the  master,  considering  the  weakness 
of  his  vessel,  thought  it  prudent  to  remove  the  mail, 
and  gave  us  notice  of  the  danger.  We  called  a  little 
fisher  boat,  which  could  hardly  make  up  to  us ;  while 
all  the  people  on  board  us  were  crying  to  Heaven ;  and 
'tis  hard  to  imagine  one's  self  in  a  scene  of  greater 
horror  than  on  such  an  occasion ;  and  yet,  shall  I 
own  it  to  you  ?  though  I  was  not  at  all  willing  to  be 
drowned,  I  could  not  forbear  being  entertained  at  the 
double  distress  of  a  fellow-passenger.  She  was  an 
English  lady  that  I  had  met  at  Calais,  who  desired 
me  to  let  her  go  over  with  me  in  my  cabin.  She  had 
bought  a  fine  point  head,  which  she  was  contriving 
to  conceal  from  the  custom-house  officers.  When  the 
wind  grew  high,  and  our  little  vessel  cracked,  she  fell 
very  heartily  to  her  prayers,  and  thought  wholly  of 
her  soul.     When  it  seemed  to  abate,  she  returned  to 


The  Embassy  to   Turkey  103 

the  worldly  care  of  her  head-dress,  and  addressed  her- 
self to  me :  '  Dear  madam,  will  you  take  care  of  this 

point  ?  if  it  should  be  lost ! Ah,  Lord,  we  shall  all 

be  lost! Lord  have   mercy  on   my  soul! Pray, 

madam,  take  care  of  this  head-dress.'  This  easy 
transition  of  her  soul  to  her  head-dress,  and  the 
alternate  agonies  that  both  gave  her,  made  it  hard 
to  determine  which  she  thought  of  greatest  value. 
But,  however,  the  scene  was  not  so  diverting  but  I 
was  glad  to  get  rid  of  it,  and  be  thrown  into  the  little 
boat,  though  with  some  hazard  of  breaking  my  neck. 
It  brought  me  safe  hither;  and  I  cannot  help  looking 
with  partial  eyes  on  my  native  land.  That  partiality 
was  certainly  given  us  by  nature,  to  prevent  rambling, 
the  effect  of  an  ambitious  thirst  after  knowledge,  which 
we  are  not  formed  to  enjoy.  All  we  %^i  by  it  is  a  fruit- 
less desire  of  mixing  the  different  pleasures  and  con- 
veniences which  are  given  to  different  parts  of  the 
world,  and  cannot  meet  in  any  one  of  them.  After 
having  read  all  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  languages 
I  am  mistress  of,  and  having  decayed  my  sight  by 
midnight  studies,  I  envy  the  easy  peace  of  mind  of 
a  ruddy  milkmaid,  who,  undisturbed  by  doubt,  hears 
the  sermon  with  humility  every  Sunday,  having  not 
confused  the  sentiments  of  natural  duty  in  her  head 
by  the  vain  enquiries  of  the  schools,  who  may  be  more 
learned,  yet,  after  all,  must  remain  as  ignorant.  And, 
after  having  seen  part  of  Asia  and  Africa,  and  almost 
made  the  tour  of  Europe,  I  think  the  honest  English 
squire  more  happy,  who  verily  believes  the  Greek  wines 


I04  The  Embassy  to   Turkey 

less  delicious  than  March  beer ;  that  the  African  fruits 
have  not  so  fine  a  flavour  as  golden  pippins ;  and  the 
becafiguas  of  Italy  are  not  so  well  tasted  as  a  rump 
of  beef;  and  that,  in  short,  there  is  no  perfect  enjoy- 
ment of  this  life  out  of  Old  England.  I  pray  God  I 
may  think  so  for  the  rest  of  my  life ;  and,  since  I  must 
be  contented  with  our  scanty  allowance  of  daylight, 
that  I  may  forget  the  enlivening  sun  of  Constantin- 
ople." 

The  letter  to  Pope,  that  closes  the  series  of  letters 
during  the  Embassy _,  has  already  been  mentioned  ;  it 
is  dated  from  Dover,  some  weeks  (according  to  the 
newspapers)  after  Lady  Mary  was  safe  in  London ; 
and  on  the  whole  it  seems  evident  that  it  was  not 
really  sent  in  answer  to  Pope's  famous  epistle  on  the 
"Lovers  struck  by  Lightning."  The  fun  made  of  Pope's 
artificial  pastoral  is  clever,  and  must  have  been  annoy- 
ing to  him,  even  with  the  concluding  couplet  of  the 
epitaph : 

"  Now  they  are  happy  in  their  doom, 
For  Pope  has  wrote  upon  their  tomb." 

But  in  ail  probability  it  was  years  before  Pope  saw  it. 
Had  it  been  otherwise,  that  final  breach  between  him 
and  Lady  Mary  might,  perhaps,  have  taken  place  at 
once,  instead  of  being  led  up  to  by  some  ten  years  of 
waning  friendship. 


Life  in  England  105 


CHAPTER  IV 

LIFE    IN    ENGLAND 

Gap  in  the  Letters — Pope's  Friendship — Kneller's  Portrait — South 
Sea  Stock  — M.  Rdmond  and  his  Money — Loss  of  the  Money — ■ 
Behaviour  of  Remond — Letters  to  Lady  Mar — The  Herveys — 
Threats  against  Remond  —  "Mrs.  Murray's  Affair"  —  Pope's 
Verses  on  his  Garden — Abundance  of  Poets— Open  ImmoraHty 
of  Society — The  Schemers — Duke  of  Wharton — Quarrel  with 
Mrs.  Murray — Auction  of  Kneller's  Pictures  — Death  of  Lady 
Mary's  Father  —  Family  Disputes  —  Escapades  of  her  Son  — 
Mankind  Fools  and  Knaves — Coronation- of  George  IL — Letters 
to  Arbuthnot  on  the  Quarrel  with  Pope — Verses  to  the  Imitator 
of  Horace — Letters  to  Lady  Pomfret—  Gossip — Lady  Herbert's 
MesalUa7ice — Flattery  of  Lady  Pomfret — Ladies  storm  the  House 
of  Lords. 

After  Lady  Mary's  return  to  England,  in  1718,  there 
is  a  gap  of  some  years  in  her  pubHshed  letters.  No 
doubt,  being  in  London  for  the  most  part  and  seeing 
the  friends  to  whom  she  was  accustomed  to  write,  she 
had  little  need  for  correspondence.  Her  husband  had 
his  Parliamentary  duties,  and  she  had  the  training  of 
her  daughter,  and  her  social  engagements.  Her  son 
was  sent  to  school,  from  which  he  took  every  opportu- 
nity of  running  away,  as  we  shall  see  in  later  letters. 
In   1720,  however,  we  begin  to  get  glimpses  of  her, 


io6  Life  in  E^igland 

though  rather  through  the  letters  of  others  than  her 
own.  We  find  her  sitting  to  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  for 
her  portrait,  apparently  at  Pope's  suggestion,  and  the 
poet  writing  to  her  in  the  old  vein  of  adoration. 
*'  The  picture  dwells  really  at  my  heart,  and  I  have 
made  a  perfect  passion  of  preferring  your  present  face 
to  your  past.  I  know  and  thoroughly  esteem  yourself 
of  this  year :  I  know  no  more  of  Lady  Mary  Pierre- 
pont,  than  to  admire  at  what  I  have  heard  of  her,  or 
be  pleased  with  some  fragments  of  hers  as  I  am  with 
Sappho's.  But  now — I  can't  say  what  I  would  say  of 
you  now.  Only  still  give  me  cause  to  say  you  are 
good  to  me,  and  allow  me  as  much  of  your  person  as 
Sir  Godfrey  can  help  me  to.  Upon  conferring  with 
him  yesterda3%  I  find  he  thinks  it  absolutely  necessary 
to  draw  the  face  first,  which  he  says  can  never  be  set 
right  on  the  figure,  if  the  drapery  and  posture  be 
finished  before.  To  give  you  as  little  trouble  as 
possible,  he  proposes  to  draw  your  face  with  crayons, 
and  finish  it  up  at  your  own  house  in  a  morning ;  from 
whence  he  will  transfer  it  to  the  canvas,  so  that  you 
need  not  go  to  sit  at  his  house.  This,  I  must  observe, 
is  a  manner  in  which  they  seldom  draw  any  but 
crowned  heads ;  and  I  observe  it  with  secret  pride 
and  pleasure."  But  the  picture  in  question  was 
certainly  ordered  and  paid  for  by  Mr.  Wortley 
Montagu.  Pope  also  tried  to  find  out  a  house  at 
Twickenham  for  his  friends. 

The    year    1720    was    the    year  of    the    South  Sea 
Company's  rise  and  fall ;  and  the  universal  gambling 


Life  in  England  107 

mania  that  had  seized  on  England  did  not  leave  Lady 
Mary  untouched.  We  find  the  younger  Craggs,  then 
Secretary  of  State,  promising  to  insert  her  name  in 
the  next  subscription  for  stock ;  we  find  the  usually 
prudent  Pope  writing  that  he  has  heard  from  the  best 
sources  that  the  stock  will  rise.  Lady  Mary  took  the 
advice,  if  not  on  her  own  account,  at  least  with  regard 
to  the  money  placed  in  her  hands  by  M.  Remond,  her 
French  adorer,  who  had  been  over  to  England,  appa- 
rently, in  1720.  In  the  letter  to  her  sister,  Lady  Mar, 
in  which  she  gives  an  account  of  the  transaction,  she 
varies  from  singular  to  plural  in  speaking  of  Remond, 
but  seems  to  forget  this  device  (intended  probably  to 
deceive  anyone  who  opened  the  letter  in  the  post)  as 
she  goes  on. 

"  It  came  into  my  head,  out  of  a  high  point  of 
generosity  (for  which  I  wished  myself  hanged),  to  do 
this  creature  all  the  good  I  possibly  could,  since  'twas 
impossible  to  make  them  happy  their  own  way.  I 
advised  him  very  strenuously  to  sell  out  of  the  sub- 
scription,* and  in  compliance  to  my  advice  he  did  so  ; 
and  in  less  than  two  days  saw  he  had  done  very 
prudently.  After  a  piece  of  service  of  this  nature,  I 
thought  I  could  more  decently  press  his  departure, 
which  his  follies  made  me  think  necessary  for  me. 
He  took  leave  of  me  with  so  many  tears  and  grimaces 
(which  I  can't  imagine  how  he  could  counterfeit)  as 
really  moved  my  compassion  ;  and  I  had  much  ado  to 
keep  to  my  first  resolution  of  exacting  his  absence, 
■^  For  South  Sea  Stock. 


io8  Life  in  England 

which  he  swore  would  be  his  death.  I  told  him  that 
there  was  no  other  way  in  the  world  I  would  not  be 
glad  to  serve  him  in,  but  that  his  extravagances  made 
it  utterly  impossible  for  me  to  keep  him  company. 
He  said  that  he  would  put  into  my  hands  the  money 
I  had  won  for  him,  and  desired  me  to  improve  it, 
saying  that  if  he  had  enough  to  buy  a  small  estate,  and 
retire  from  the  world,  ^twas  all  the  happiness  he  hoped 
for  in  it.  I  represented  to  him  that  if  he  had  so  little 
money  as  he  said,  'twas  ridiculous  to  hazard  it  all.  He 
replied  that  'tvvas  too  little  to  be  of  any  value,  and  he 
would  either  have  it  double  or  quit.  After  many 
objections  on  my  side  and  replies  on  his,  I  was  so 
weak  to  be  overcome  by  his  entreaties,  and  flattered 
myself  also  that  I  was  doing  a  very  heroic  action,  in 
trying  to  make  a  man's  fortune  though  I  did  not  care 
for  his  addresses.  He  left  me  with  these  imaginations, 
and  my  first  care  was  to  employ  his  money  to  the  best 
advantage.  I  laid  it  all  out  in  stock,  the  general  dis- 
course and  private  intelligence  then  scattered  about 
being  of  a  great  rise.  You  may  remember  it  was  two 
or  three  days  before  the  fourth  subscription,*  and  you 
were  with  me  when  I  paid  away  the  money  to  Mr. 
Binfield.  I  thought  I  had  managed  prodigious  well 
in  selling  out  the  said  stock  the  day  after  the  shutting 
the  books  (for  a  small  profit)  to  Cox  and  Cleeve,  gold- 
smiths of  very  good  reputation.  When  the  opening 
of  the  books  came,  my  men  went  off,  leaving  the  stock 
upon   my   hands,  which  was  already  sunk   from   near 

*  August,  1720. 


Life  in  England  109 

nine  hundred  pounds  to  four  hundred  pounds.  I 
immediately  writ  him  word  of  this  misfortune,  with 
the  sincere  sorrow  natural  to  have  upon  such  an  occa- 
sion, and  asked  his  opinion  as  to  the  selling  the  stock 
remaining  in.  He  made  me  no  answer  to  this  part  of 
my  letter,  but  a  long  eloquent  oration  of  miseries  of 
another  nature.  I  attributed  this  silence  to  his  dis- 
interested neglect  of  his  money;  but,  however,  resolved 
to  make  no  more  steps  in  his  business  without  direct 
orders,  after  having  been  so  unlucky.  This  occasioned 
many  letters  to  no  purpose  ;  but  the  very  post  after 
you  left  London,  I  received  a  letter  from  him,  in  which 
he  told  me  that  he  had  discovered  all  my  tricks  ;  that 
he  was  convinced  I  had  all  his  money  remaining  un- 
touched ;  and  he  would  have  it  again,  or  he  would 
print  all  my  letters  to  him;  which  though,  God  knows, 
very  innocent  in  the  main,  yet  may  admit  of  ill  con- 
structions, besides  the  monstrousness  of  being  exposed 
in  such  a  manner.  I  hear  from  other  people  that  he 
is  liar  enough  to  publish  that  I  have  borrowed  the 
money  of  him  ;  though  I  have  a  note  under  his  hand, 
by  which  he  desires  me  to  employ  it  in  the  funds,  and 
acquits  me  of  being  answerable  for  the  losses  that  may 
happen.  At  the  same  time  I  have  attestations  and 
witnesses  of  the  bargains  I  made,  so  that  nothing  can 
be  clearer  than  my  integrity  in  this  business  ;  but  that 
does  not  hinder  me  from  being  in  the  utmost  terror  for 
the  consequences  (as  you  may  easily  guess)  of  his 
villainy  ;  the  very  story  of  which  appears  so  monstrous 
to   me,  I   can  hardly  believe   myself  while  I  write  it ; 


iio  Life  in  England 

though  I  omit  (not  to  tire  you)  a  thousand  aggravating 
circumstances." 

The  next  letter  of  Lady  Mary's  is  dated  from 
Twickenham,  where  she  now  had  a  house.  She  is 
still  in  great  anxiety  about  Remond,  offering  to  submit 
to  any  sort  of  investigation  that  may  convince  him  of 
her  honesty,  if  only  her  husband  does  not  hear  of  the 
matter.  The  purchase  seems  to  have  been  of  five 
hundred  pounds'  stock,  which,  as  the  price  was  *'  near 
nine  hundred,"  must  have  cost  Remond  over  four 
thousand  pounds ;  and  his  delay  in  giving  orders  to 
sell  out  probably  prevented  Lady  Mary  from  disposing 
of  the  shares  till  they  were  down  to  three  hundred 
pounds  each  ;  for  when  Remond  afterwards  offered  to 
compromise  for  two  thousand  pounds,  she  declared 
that  would  be  "  sending  him  several  hundreds  out  of 
her  own  pocket."  Thus,  if  ''hapless  Monsieur"  was 
not  "  cheated  of  five  thousand  pounds  in  the  South 
Sea  year,"  he  certainly  lost  more  than  half  that  sum. 
He  may  therefore  be  excused  for  feeling  some  annoy- 
ance at  the  loss  of  his  property,  though  his  methods  of 
procedure  were  hardly  in  accordance  with  his  national 
gallantry.  Lady  Mary  was  thrown  into  a  panic  by 
finding  that  he  had  written  to  her  husband.  ''  I  have 
actually,  in  my  present  possession,  a  formal  letter 
directed  to  Mr.  W.,  to  acquaint  him  with  the  whole 
business.  You  may  imagine  the  inevitable  eternal 
misfortunes  it  would  have  thrown  me  into,  had  it  been 
delivered  by  the  person  to  whom  it  was  entrusted." 
For  a  time  there  was  a  lull  in  the  dispute,  and   Lady 


Life  in  England  1 1  r 

Mary  could  find  time  to  write  a  letter  without  refer- 
ence to  R^mond,  whimsically  complaining  of  the 
wearisome  affection  of  her  friend  Mr.  Hervey  (after- 
wards better  known  as  Lord  Hervey)  and  his  wife, 
the  beautiful  Molly  Lepel.  "  They  visited  me  twice  or 
thrice  a  day,  and  were  perpetually  cooing  in  my  rooms. 
I  was  complaisant  a  great  while ;  but  (as  you  know) 
my  talent  has  never  lain  much  that  way;  I  grew  at  last 
so  weary  of  those  birds  of  paradise,  I  fled  to  Twicken- 
ham, as  much  to  avoid  their  persecutions  as  for  my 
own  health,  which  is  still  in  a  declining  way."  But 
the  *'  monster "  again  returned  to  the  charge,  and 
threatened  to  come  over  to  England — a  step  which 
called  for  strong  measures. 

"  I  desire  you  would  assure  him  that  my  first  step 
shall  be  to  acquaint  my  Lord  Stair  *  with  all  his 
obligations  to  him,  as  soon  as  I  hear  he  is  in  London ; 
and  if  he  dares  to  gives  me  further  trouble,  I  shall  take 
care  to  have  him  rewarded  in  a  stronger  manner  than 
he  expects  ;  there  is  nothing  more  true  than  this ;  and 
I  solemnly  swear,  that  if  all  the  credit  or  money  that  I 
have  in  the  world  can  do  it,  either  for  friendship  or 
hire,  I  shall  not  fail  to  have  him  used  as  he  deserves ; 
and  since  I  know  his  journey  can  only  be  designed  to 
expose  me,  I  shall  not  value  what  noise  is  made. 
Perhaps  you  may  prevent  it ;   I  leave  you  to  judge  of 

'''  Lord  Stair  had  been  the  English  Ambassador  at  Paris,  and 
seems  to  have  employed  Remond.  Possibly  Remond  had  played 
him  false.  In  any  case,  Stair's  influence  in  France  was  very  great, 
and  his  enmity  would  be  serious  for  Remond. 


112  Life  in  England 

the  most  proper  method  ;  'tis  certain  no  time  should 
be  lost ;  fear  is  his  predominant  passion,  and  I  believe 
you  may  fright  him  from  coming  hither,  where  he  will 
certainly  find  a  reception  very  disagreeable  to  him." 

The  threat  seems  to  have  been  effectual  in  keeping 
Remond  away ;  but  he  was  still  not  to  be  appeased, 
and  threatened  ''  to  print  I  know  not  what  stuff  against 
me.  I  am  too  well  acquainted  with  the  world  (of 
which  poor  Mrs.  Murray's  affair  is  a  fatal  instance), 
not  to  know^  that  the  most  groundless  accusation  is 
always  of  ill  consequence  to  a  w^oman." 

*'  Mrs.  Murray^s  affair"  happened  on  October  i,  1721, 
which  may  serve  to  date  the  letter  in  which  the  refer- 
ence occurs,  for  Lady  Mary  had  not  mended  her  habit 
of  leaving  out  the  dates  of  her  letters,  in  spite  of  Pope's 
appeals.  Mrs.  Murray's  footman,  Arthur  Grey,  entered 
her  bedroom  one  night  with  a  pistol,  and  declared  his 
passion  for  her ;  she  called  for  help,  he  was  seized, 
and,  after  trial,  transported.  Such  an  occurrence,  as 
may  readily  be  believed,  gave  rise  to  much  scandal ; 
and  it  is  curious  that  Lady  Mary  herself  wrote  a 
poetical  *'  Epistle  from  Arthur  Grey  in  Newgate  " — 
which,  though  only  complimentary  to  Mrs.  Murray, 
yet  added  to  the  publicity  of  the  affair — and  was  more 
than  suspected  of  writing  a  ballad  on  the  case,  more 
lively  than  proper. 

After  this  there  is  an  interval  of  some  months 
without  a  published  letter.  Probably  the  disclosure  of 
the  Remond  affair  to  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu  took  place 
in   this   interval ;  for  it   is  never  mentioned  again  by 


Life  in  England  113 

Lady  Mary.  The  Countess  of  Mar  seems  to  have 
been  a  bad  correspondent,  or  else,  Mar  being  suspected 
by  the  Jacobites  of  betraying  them,  letters  to  him  or 
his  wife  were  intercepted.  Still,  however.  Lady  Mary 
continued  to  send  the  gossip  of  the  day.  It  seems  that 
Pope  had  already  begun  to  cool  in  his  friendship. 

"  I  see  sometimes  Mr.  Congreve,  and  very  seldom 
Mr.  Pope,  who  continues  to  embellish  his  house  at 
Twickenham.  Pie  has  made  a  subterranean  grotto, 
which  he  has  furnished  with  looking-glass,  and  they 
tell  me  it  has  a  very  good  effect.  I  here  send  you 
some  verses  addressed  to  Mr.  Gay,  who  wrote  him  a 
congratulatory  letter  on  the  finishing  his  house.  I 
stifled  them  here,  and  I  beg  they  may  die  the  same 
death  at  Paris,  and  never  go  further  than  your  closet : 

" '  Ah,  friend,  'tis  true — this  truth  you  lovers  know — 
In  vain  my  structures  rise,  my  gardens  grow, 
In  vain  fair  Thames  reflects  the  double  scenes 
Of  hanging  mountains,  and  of  sloping  greens  : 
Joy  lives  not  here  ;  to  happier  seats  it  flies, 
And  only  dwells  where  W casts  her  eyes. 

"  '  What  is  the  gay  parterre,  the  chequer'd  shade, 
The  morning  bower,  the  ev'ning  colonnade, 
But  soft  recesses  of  uneasy  minds, 
To  sigh  unheard  in,  to  the  passing  winds  ? 
So  the  struck  deer  in  some  sequestrate  part 
Lies  down  to  die,  the  arrow  at  his  heart ; 
There,  stretch'd  unseen  in  coverts  hid  from  day, 
Bleeds  drop  by  drop,  and  pants  his  life  away.'  " 

It  seems  a  little  singular,  however,  if  W here 

stands  for  Wortley,  that  Pope  should  not  have  asked 
the  deity  to  ''  cast  her  eyes  "  on  his  garden  and  grotto. 

8 


114  Life  in  England 

Perhaps,  in  his  thrifty  way,  he  made  the  verses  do 
duty  for  several  ladies  whose  names  had  the  proper 
number  of  syllables. 

Lady  Mary  discovered  in  1723,  after  losing  ''  at  least 
five-and-forty  letters,"  that  her  sister  did  not  get  what 
she  wrote.     The  post  was  so  unsafe,  that  she  had  to 
find  a  private  messenger  for  her  budget  of  gossip  and 
scandal,  including  all  the  matches  made  or  making  in 
high  life, 
n"  This  is,  I  think,  the  whole  state  of  love ;  as  to  that 
of  wit,  it  splits  itself  into  ten  thousand  branches  ;  poets 
increase  and  multiply  to  that  stupendous  degree,  you 
see  them  at  every  turn,  even  in  embroidered  coats  and 
pink-coloured  top-knots ;  making  verses  is  almost   as 
common  as  taking  snuff,  and  God  can  tell  what  miser- 
able stuff  people  carry  about  in  their  pockets,  and  offer 
to  all  their  acquaintances,  and  you  know  one  cannot 
refuse  reading  and  taking  a  pinch.      This  is   a  very 
great  grievance,   and  so  particularly  shocking  to  me, 
that    I   think   our  wise   lawgivers   should   take   it   into 
consideration,    and    appoint    a    fast  -  day   to    beseech 
Heaven  to  put  a  stop  to  this  epidemical  disease,  as 
they  did  last  year  for  the  plague  with  great  success."  ) 

The  general  immorality  of  high  society  at  the  time 
seems  to  have  gone  beyond  Lady  Mary's  rather  easy 
tolerance,  though  she  speaks  of  the  scandals  of  the  age 
with  the  freedom  of  the  age. 

"  The  v.'orld  improves  in  one  virtue  to  a  violent 
degree,  I  mean  plain-dealing.  Hypocrisy  being  as  the 
Scripture  declares,  a  damnable  sin,  I  hope  our  pubhcans 


!!7tA'y,ji7i/ruM.e/u/u/njoc/. 


^oMf^xyn^  ^lA./^. 


yK'UcWT-ruV^c 


^oria/b& 


2/<e/. 


Life  in  England  115 

and  sinners  will  be  saved  by  the  open  profession  of  the 
contrary  virtue.     I   was  told  by  a  very  good   author, 
who   is  deep  in   the   secret,  that   at  this  very  minute 
there  is  a  bill  cooking-up  at  a  hunting-seat  in  Norfolk,* 
to   have   not  taken    out    of    the    commandments   and 
clapped  into  the  creed,  the  ensuing  session  of  Parlia- 
ment.    This  bold  attempt  for  the  liberty  of  the  subject 
is  wholly  projected  by  Mr.  Walpole,  who  proposed  it  to 
the  secret  committee  in  his  parlour.     William  Young 
seconded  it,  and  answered   for  all    his    acquaintance 
voting    right    to   a    man :    Dodingtonf    very   gravely 
objected,  that  the  obstinacy  of  human  nature  was  such, 
that  he  feared  when  they  had  positive  commandments 
to  do  [so],  perhaps  people  would  not  commit  adultery 
and  bear  false  witness  against  their  neighbours  with 
the   readiness   and    cheerfulness   they   do    at   present. 
This  objection  seemed  to  sink  deep  into  the  minds  of 
the  greatest  politicians  at  the  board  ;  and  I  don't  know 
whether  the  bill  won't  be  dropped,  though  it  is  certain 
it  might  be  carried  with  great  ease,  the  world  being 
entirely  revenue  du  [sic]   bagatelle,   and   honour,  virtue, 
reputation,    etc.,    which    we   used   to    hear   of  in  our 
nursery,    is    as    much   laid    aside     and    forgotten     as 
crumpled  riband." 

In  the  same  letter  Lady  Mary  satirically  affects  to 
be  ashamed  of  her  own  respectability:  "You  may 
imagine  we  married  women  look  very  silly ;  we  have 

*  Houghton,  the  house  of  Mr.  —afterwards  Sir  Robert — Walpole. 

t  George  Bubb  Dodington,  one  of  the  most  corrupt  politicians  of 
the  time.  The  same  objection  to  the  same  proposal  was  satirically 
made  by  Swift. 

8—2 


ii6  I-if<^  ^^^  England 

nothing  to  excuse  ourselves,  but  that  it  was  done  a 
great  while  ago,  and  we  were  very  young  when  we  did 
it."  In  the  follies  of  the  time,  her  friend  the  Duke  of 
Wharton  ("  Clodio,  the  scorn  and  wonder  of  our 
days")  figured  largely,  as  the  following  extract  proves  : 

''  In  general,  gallantry  never  was  in  so  elevated  a 
figure  as  it  is  at  present.  Twenty  very  pretty  fellows 
(the  Duke  of  Wharton  being  president  and  chief 
director)  have  formed  themselves  into  a  committee  of 
gallantry.  They  call  themselves  Schemers ;  and  meet 
regularly  three  times  a  week,  to  consult  on  gallant 
schemes  for  the  advantage  and  advancement  of  that 
branch  of  happiness.  ...  I  consider  the  duty  of  a  true 
EngHshwoman  is  to  do  what  honour  she  can  to  her 
native  country ;  and  that  it  would  be  a  sin  against  the 
pious  love  I  bear  the  land  of  my  nativity,  to  confine  the 
renown  due  to  the  Schemers  within  the  small  extent  of 
this  little  island,  which  ought  to  be  spread  wherever 
men  can  sigh,  or  woman  wish.  'Tis  true  they  have 
the  envy  and  curses  of  the  old  and  ugly  of  both  sexes, 
and  a  general  persecution  from  all  old  womiCn  ;  but 
this  is  no  more  than  all  reformations  must  expect  in 
their  beginning.  .  .  ." 

The  very  next  letter  published  chronicles  the  Duke's 
sudden,  but  too  temporary,  conversion ;  and  shortly 
afterwards  we  learn  that  "  Sophia  [her  nickname  for 
the  Duke]  and  I  have  been  quite  reconciled,  and  are 
now  quite  broke,  and  I  believe  not  likely  to  piece  up 
again."  Soon  after  he  openly  took  the  Jacobite  side 
and  fled  to  the  Continent. 


Life  in  England  1 1 7 

All  this  whirl  of  fashionable  life  Lady  Mary  affected 
to  look  on  with  a  philosophic  indifference.  "  For  my 
part,  as  it  is  my  established  opinion,  that  this  globe 
of  ours  is  no  better  than  a  Holland  cheese,  and  the 
walkers  about  in  it  mutes,  I  possess  my  mind  in 
patience,  let  what  will  happen  ;  and  should  feel  toler- 
ably easy,  though  a  great  rat  came  and  ate  half  of  it 
up."  But  an  old  sin  of  hers  seems  to  have  found  her 
out  in  1725 — the  ballad  which  she  seems  practically  to 
acknowledge  having  made  on  the  affair  of  Arthur 
Grey: 

"  Among  the  rest  a  very  odd  whim  has  entered  the 
little  head  of  Mrs.  Murray  :  do  you  know  she  won't 
visit  me  this  winter?  I,  according  to  the  usual 
integrity  of  my  heart,  and  simplicity  of  my  manners, 
with  great  naivete  desired  to  explain  with  her  on  the 
subject,  and  she  answered  that  she  was  convinced  that 
I  had  made  the  ballad  upon  her,  and  was  resolved 
never  to  speak  to  me  again.  I  answered  (which  was 
true),  that  I  utterly  defied  her  to  have  any  one  single 
proof  of  my  making  it,  without  being  able  to  get  any- 
thing from  her,  but  repetitions  that  she  knew  it.  I 
cannot  suppose  that  any  thing  you  have  said  should 
occasion  this  rupture,  and  the  reputation  of  a  quarrel 
is  always  so  ridiculous  on  both  sides,  that  you  will 
oblige  me  in  mentioning  it  to  her,  for  'tis  now  at  that 
pretty  pass,  she  won't  curtsey  to  me  whenever  she 
meets  me,  which  is  superlatively  silly  (if  she  really 
knew  it)  after  a  suspension  of  resentment  for  two  years 
together." 


ii8  Life  in  England 

This  quarrel  caused  5^et  further  annoyance,  as  may 
be  seen  from  an  extract  from  a  letter  of  1726 : 

"  Mrs.  Murray  is  in  open  wars  [s/c]  with  me  in  such 
a  manner  as  makes  her  very  ridiculous  without  doing 
me  much  harm  ;  my  moderation  having  a  very  bright 
pretence  of  shewing  itself.  Firstl}^  she  was  pleased  to 
attack  me  in  very  Billingsgate  at  a  masquerade,  where 
she  was  as  visible  as  ever  she  was  in  her  own  clothes. 
I  had  the  temper  not  only  to  keep  silence  myself,  but 
enjoined  it  to  the  person  with  me;  who  would  have 
been  very  glad  to  have  shewn  his  great  skill  in  sousing 
upon  that  occasion.  She  endeavoured  to  sweeten  him 
by  very  exorbitant  praises  of  his  person,  which  might 
even  have  been  mistaken  for  making  love  from  a 
woman  of  less  celebrated  virtue ;  and  concluded  her 
oration  with  pious  warnings  to  him,  to  avoid  the  con- 
versation of  one  so  unworthy  his  regard  as  myself,  who 
to  her  certain  knowledge  loved  another  man.  This 
last  article,  I  own,  piqued  me  more  than  all  her  pre- 
ceding civilities.  The  gentleman  she  addressed  herself 
to  had  a  very  slight  acquaintance  with  me,  and  might 
possibly  go  away  in  the  opinion  that  she  had  been 
confidante  in  some  very  notorious  affair  of  mine. 
However,  I  made  her  no  answer  at  the  time,  but  you 
may  imagine  I  laid  up  these  things  in  my  heart  ;  and 
the  first  assembly  I  had  the  honour  to  meet  her  at, 
with  a  meek  tone  of  voice,  asked  her  how  I  had 
deserved  so  much  abuse  at  her  hands,  which  I  assured 
her  I  would  never  return.  She  denied  it  in  the  spirit 
of  lying  ;  and  in  the  spirit  of  folly  owned  it  at  length. 


Life  in  Eiigland  119 

I  contented  myself  with  telling  her  she  was  ver}^  ill 
advised,  and  thus  we  parted.  But  two  days  ago^  when 
Sir  G.  K.'s*  pictures  were  to  be  sold,  she  went  to  my 
sister  Gower,  and  very  civily  asked  if  she  intended  to 
bid  for  your  picture  ;  assuring  her  that,  if  she  did,  she 
would  not  offer  at  purchasing  it.  You  know  crimp 
and  quadrille  incapacitate  that  poor  soul  from  ever 
buying  any  thing ;  but  she  told  me  this  circumstance  ; 
and  I  expected  the  same  civility  from  Mrs.  Murray, 
having  no  way  provoked  her  to  the  contrary.  But  she 
not  only  came  to  the  auction,  but  with  all  possible 
spite  bid  up  the  picture,  though  I  told  her  that,  if  you 
pleased  to  have  it,  I  would  gladly  part  with  it  to  you, 
though  to  no  other  person.  This  had  no  effect  upon 
her,  nor  her  malice  any  more  on  me  than  the  loss  of 
ten  guineas  extraordinary,  which  I  paid  upon  her 
account.  The  picture  is  in  my  possession,  and  at  your 
service  if  you  please  to  have  it.  She  went  to  the  mas- 
querade a  few  nights  afterwards,  and  had  the  good  sense 
to  tell  people  there  that  she  was  very  unhappy  in  not 
meeting  me,  being  come  there  on  purpose  to  abuse  me. 
What  profit  or  pleasure  she  has  in  these  ways  I  cannot 
find  out.  This  I  know,  that  revenge  has  so  few  joys  for 
me,  I  shall  never  lose  so  much  time  as  to  undertake  it." 
The  death  of  her  father,  which  happened  in  March, 
1726,  seems  to  have  affected  Lady  Mary  but  little  ; 
and  there  were  unpleasant  pecuniary  disputes  with  his 

"f"  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  died  in  1723,  and  some  of  his  pictures, 
unclaimed  by  those  who  had  ordered  them,  were  sold  at  auction  in 
1726,  and  among  them,  apparently,  Lady  Mar's  portrait. 


I20  Life  in  England 

second  wife,  who  seems  to  have  been  ahve  to  her  own 
interests.  The  tone  of  the  references  to  the  subject  is 
very  cold  :  ''  I  received  yours,  dear  sister,  this  minute, 
and  am  very  sorry  both  for  your  past  ilhiess  and 
affliction ;  though,  an  hout  die  compte,  I  don't  know  why 
fiUal  piety  should  exceed  fatherly  fondness.  So  much 
by  way  of  consolation.  As  to  the  management  at  that 
time — I  do  verily  believe,  if  my  good  aunt  and  sister 
had  been  less  fools,  and  my  dear  mother-in-law  less 
mercenary,  things  might  have  had  a  turn  more  to  your 
advantage  and  mine  too ;  when  we  meet,  I  will  tell  you 
many  circumstances  which  would  be  tedious  in  a  letter. 
I  could  not  get  my  sister  Gower  to  join  to  act  with  me, 
and  mamma  and  I  were  in  an  actual  scold  when  my 
poor  father  expired ;  she  has  shewn  a  hardness  of  heart 
upon  this  occasion  that  would  appear  incredible  to  any 
body  not  capable  of  it  themselves." 

The  fortunes  of  her  family  Lady  Mary  regarded  with 
the  same  indifference  as  the  ''  wars  and  rumours  of 
wars  "  distracting  public  attention  from  the  time  of  the 
formation  of  the  rival  alliances  of  Vienna  and  Hanover, 
in  1725. 

"  All  that  I  had  to  say  to  you  was  that  my  F.  [father] 
really  expressed  a  great  deal  of  kindness  to  me  at  last, 
and  even  a  desire  of  talking  to  me,  which  my  Lady 
Duchess  would  not  permit ;  nor  my  aunt  and  sister  shew 
anything  but  a  servile  complaisance  to  her.  This  is  the 
abstract  of  what  you  desire  to  know,  and  is  now  quite 
useless.  'Tis  over  and  better  to  be  forgot  than  remem- 
bered.    The  Duke  of  Kintrston  has  hitherto  had  so  ill 


Life  in  England  1 2 1 

an  education,  'tis  hard  to  make  any  judgment  of  him  ; 
he  has  spirit,  but  I  fear  will  never  have  his  father's  good 
sense.  As  young  noblemen  go,  'tis  possible  he  may 
make  a  good  figure  amongst  them.  Wars  and  rumours 
of  wars  make  all  the  conversation  at  present.  The 
tumbling  of  the  stocks,  one  way  or  other,  influences 
most  people's  affairs.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  no 
concern  there  or  anywhere,  but  hearty  prayers  that 
what  relates  to  myself  may  ever  be  exactly  what  it  is 
now.  Mutability  of  sublunary  things  is  the  only 
melancholy  reflection  I  have  to  make  on  my  own 
account.  I  am  in  perfect  health,  and  hear  it  said  I 
look  better  than  ever  I  did  in  my  life,  which  is  one  of 
those  lies  one  is  always  glad  to  hear.  However,  in 
this  dear  minute,  in  this  golden  now,  I  am  tenderly 
touched  at  your  misfortune,  and  can  never  call  myself 
quite  happy  till  you  are  so." 

Lady  Mary's  niece  Frances,  sister  of  the  new  Duke  of 
Kingston,  seems  to  have  been  a  bone  of  contention  in  the 
family  ;  but  Lady  Mary  herself  had  enough  trouble  with 
her  own  son  not  to  care  for  more  family  worries. 

*'  I  have  been  emhourhee  in  family  affairs  for  this  last 
fortnight.  Lady  F.  [Frances]  Pierrepont  having  four 
hundred  pounds  per  annum  for  her  maintenance,  has 
awakened  the  consciences  of  half  her  relations  to  take 
care  of  her  education  ;  and  (excepting  myself)  they 
have  all  been  squabbling  about  her  ;  and  squabble  to 
this  day.  My  sister  Gower  carries  her  off  to-morrow 
morning  to  Staffordshire.  The  lies,  twaddles,  and 
contrivances   about    this   affair    are    innumerable.      I 


122  Life  in  England 

should  pity  the  poor  girl,  if  I  saw  she  pitied  herself.  The 
Duke  of  Kingston  is  in  France,  but  is  not  to  go  to 
your  capital ;  so  much  for  that  branch  of  your  family. 
My  blessed  offspring  has  already  made  a  great  noise 
in  the  world.  That  young  rake,  my  son,  took  to  his 
heels  t'other  day  and  transported  his  person  to  Oxford ; 
being  in  his  own  opinion  thoroughly  qualified  for  the 
University.  After  a  good  deal  of  search  we  found  and 
reduced  him,  much  against  his  will,  to  the  humble  con- 
dition of  a  schoolboy.  It  happens  very  luckily  that  the 
sobriety  and  discretion  is  of  my  daughter's  side  ;  I  am 
sorry  the  ugliness  is  so  too,  for  my  son  grows  extreme 
handsome." 

The  second  running  away,  however,  in  1727,  was  a 
more  serious  matter.  "  I  am  vexed  to  the  blood,"  she 
writes,  *'  by  my  young  rogue  of  a  son ;  who  has  con- 
trived at  his  age  to  make  himself  the  talk  of  the  whole 
nation.  He  is  gone  knight-erranting,  God  knows 
where  ;  and  hitherto  'tis  impossible  to  find  him."  In 
spite  of  an  offered  reward  of  £20,  he  did  not  turn  up 
for  some  months. 

The  Duchess  of  Kingston,  indeed,  did  not  long  sur- 
vive her  husband,  though  so  much  younger.  As  Lady 
Mary  rather  brutally  put  it :  ''  The  Duchess  of  Kingston 
grunts  on  as  usual,  and  I  fear  will  put  us  in  black 
bombazine  soon,  which  is  a  real  grief  to  me."  In  June, 
1727,  died  Lady  Gower,  from  whom  her  sister  seems  to 
have  been  somewhat  estranged,  in  consequence  of  the 
squabbles  on  the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Kingston.  ''We 
are  now  but  two  in  the  world,"  wrote  Lady  Mary  to 


Life  ill  E7iglaiid  123 

her  remaining  sister,  Lady  Mar,  "  and  it  ought  to 
endear  us  to  one  another."  It  was  under  the  influence 
of  this  loss,  and  probably  still  more  under  the  vexation 
of  her  son's  running  away,  that  Lady  Mary  wrote  the 
following  letter  : 

"  This  is  a  vile  world,  dear  sister,  and  I  can  easily 
comprehend,  that  whether  one  is  at  Paris  or  London, 
one  is  stifled  with  a  certain  mixture  of  fool  and  knave, 
that    most   people    are    composed   of.     I    would    have 
patience  with  a  parcel  of  polite  rogues,  or  your  down- 
right honest  fools  ;  but  father  Adam  shines  through  his 
whole  progeny.     So  much  for  our  inside, — then  our  out- 
ward is  so  liable  to  ugliness  and  distempers,  that  we 
are  perpetually  plagued  with  feeling  our  own  decays 
and  seeing  those  of  other  people.     Yet,  sixpennyworth 
of    common-sense,    divided    among   a   whole    nation, 
would    make  our  lives   roll  away  glibly  enough  ;  but 
then  we  make  laws,  and  we  follow  customs.     By  the 
first  we  cut  off  our  own  pleasures,  and  by  the  second 
we  are  answerable  for  the  faults  and  extravagances  of 
others.     All  these  things,  and  five  hundred  more,  con- 
vince me  (as  I  have  the  most  profound  veneration  for 
the  Author  of  Nature)  that  we  are  here  in  an  actual 
state  of  punishment ;  I  am  satisfied  I  have  been  one  of 
the  condemned  ever  since  I  was  born  ;  and,  in  submission 
to  the  Divine  justice,  I  don't  at  all  doubt  but  I  deserved 
it  in  some  pre-existent  state.     I  will  still  hope  that  I 
am   only  in   purgatory ;    and  that    after   whining   and 
grunting  a  certain  number  of  years,  I  shall  be  trans- 
lated to  some  more  happy  sphere,  where  virtue  will  be 


124  Life  in  England 

natural,  and  custom  reasonable ;  that  is,  in  short, 
where  common-sense  will  reign.  I  grow  very  devout, 
as  you  see,  and  place  all  my  hopes  in  the  next  life, 
being  totally  persuaded  of  the  nothingness  of  this. 
Don't  you  remember  how  miserable  we  were  in  the 
little  parlour  at  Thoresby  ?  We  then  thought  marry- 
ing would  put  us  at  once  into  possession  of  all  we 
wanted.  Then  came  being  with  child,  etc.,  and  you 
see  what  comes  of  being  with  child.  Though,  after  all, 
I  am  still  of  opinion  that  it  is  extremely  silly  to  submit 
to  ill-fortune.  One  should  pluck  up  a  spirit,  and  live 
upon  cordials  when  one  can  have  no  other  nourish- 
ment. These  are  my  present  endeavours,  and  I  run 
about,  though  I  have  five  thousand  pins  and  needles 
running  into  my  heart.  I  try  to  console  myself  with  a 
small  damsel,  who  is  at  present  everything  I  like — but, 
alas  !  she  is  yet  in  a  white  frock.  At  fourteen,  she  may 
run  away  with  the  butler : — there's  one  of  the  blessed 
consequences  of  great  disappointments ;  you  are  not 
only  hurt  by  the  thing  present,  but  it  cuts  off  all  future 
hopes,  and  makes  your  future  expectations  melancholy. 
Quelle  vie!  ir 

Can  this  be  the  letter  Horace  Walpole  refers  to 
when  he  quotes  from  memory  one  of  the  letters  to 
Lady  Mar  ? — *'  We  all  partake  of  father  Adam's  folly 
and  knavery,  who  first  eat  the  apple  like  a  sot  and  then 
turned  informer  like  a  scoundrel."  The  sentiment  is 
the  same. 

The  last  of  the  letters  to  Lady  Mar  is  a  description 
of  George  IL's  coronation,  in  her  usual  critical  vein  : 


Life  in  England  125 

"  I  cannot  deny,  but  that  I  was  very  well  diverted  on 
the  Coronation  day.  I  saw  the  procession  much  at  my 
ease,  in  a  house  which  I  filled  with  my  own  company, 
and  then  got  into  Westminster  Hall  without  trouble, 
where  it  was  very  entertaining  to  observe  the  variety 
of  airs  that  all  meant  the  same  thing.  The  business  of 
every  walker  there  was  to  conceal  vanity  and  gain 
admiration.  For  these  purposes  some  languished  and 
others  strutted  ;  but  a  visible  satisfaction  was  diffused 
over  every  countenance,  as  soon  as  the  coronet  was 
clapped  on  the  head.  But  she  that  drew  the  greatest 
number  of  eyes,  was  indisputably  Lady  Orkney.*  She 
exposed  behind,  a  mixture  of  fat  and  wrinkles ;  and 
before,  a  very  considerable  protuberance  which  pre- 
ceded her.  Add  to  this,  the  inimitable  roll  of  her  eyes, 
and  her  gray  hairs,  which  by  good  fortune  stood 
directly  upright,  and  'tis  impossible  to  imagine  a 
more  delightful  spectacle.  She  had  embellished  all  this 
with  considerable  magnificence,  which  made  her  look 
as  big  again  as  usual ;  and  I  should  have  thought  her 
one  of  the  largest  things  of  God's  making  if  my  Lady 
St.  John  had  not  displayed  all  her  charms  in  honour  of 
the  day.  The  poor  Duchess  of  Montrose  crept  along 
with  a  dozen  of  black  snakes  playing  round  her  face ; 
and  my  Lady  Portlandt  (who  is  fallen  away  since  her 
dismission   from    Court)    represented   very   finely    an 

*  Lady  Orkney  must  have  been  old,  as  she  had  been  the 
favourite  of  William  III. 

t  Lady  Portland  had  been  appointed  by  George  L  to  take 
charge  of  his  grand-children  against  the  wish  of  their  father  ;  hence 
the  latter,  on  succeeding  to  the  throne,  at  once  dismissed  her. 


126  Life  in  England 

Egyptian  mummy  embroidered  over  with  hierogly- 
phics. In  general,  I  could  not  perceive  but  that  the 
old  were  as  well  pleased  as  the  young ;  and  I,  who 
dread  growing  wise  more  than  anything  in  the  world, 
was  overjoyed  to  find  that  one  can  never  outlive  one's 
vanity." 

Shortly  after  this  letter  was  sent,  Lady  Mar  went 
out  of  her  mind  ;  and  in  March,  1728,  she  was  brought 
to  England,  and  remained  in  charge  of  her  sister  till 
her  daughter.  Lady  Frances  Erskine,  was  old  enough 
to  take  over  her  care. 

After  Lady  Mar  became  insane  there  is  another 
great  gap  in  her  sister's  published  correspondence. 
From  172S  to  173S  there  is  hardly  a  letter  of  hers 
printed  ;  the  few  that  are,  relate  chiefly  to  the  quarrel 
with  Pope,  and  are  by  no  means  favourable  specimens 
of  the  author's  style.  x\s  already  mentioned^  Pope 
suspected  her  of  being  concerned  in  some  of  the 
answers  to  the  ''Dunciad,"  notably  ''A  Pop  upon  Pope" 
and  "One  Epistle  to  Mr.  Alexander  Pope,"  both  of  a 
scurrilous  character — the  latter  libelling  Swift  and 
Esther  Vanhomrigh,  as  well  as  Pope.  The  authorship 
of  this  Lady  Mary  indignantly  denied. 

''  I  am  told,"  she  wrote  to  Arbuthnot,  with  whom  she 
remained  on  friendly  terms,  *'  Pope  has  had  the  sur- 
prising impudence  to  assert  he  can  bring  the  lampoon 
when  he  pleases  to  produce  it,  under  my  own  hand  ; 
I  desire  he  may  be  made  to  keep  to  this  offer.  If  he  is 
so  skilful  in  counterfeiting  hands,  I  suppose  he  will  not 
confine  that  great  talent  to  the  gratifying  his  malice, 


Life  in  Engla^td  127 

but  take  some  occasion  to  increase  his  fortune  by  the 
same  method,  and  may  I  hope  (by  such  practices)  to  see 
him  exalted  according  to  his  merit,  which  nobody  will 
rejoice  at  more  than  myself.  I  beg  of  you,  sir  (as  an 
act  of  justice),  to  endeavour  to  set  the  truth  in  an  open 
light,  and  then  I  leave  to  your  judgment  the  character 
of  those  who  have  attempted  to  hurt  mine  in  so  bar- 
barous a  manner.  I  can  assure  you  (in  particular)  you 
named  a  lady  to  me  (as  abused  in  this  libel)  whose 
name  I  never  heard  before,  as  I  never  had  any  ac- 
quaintance with  Dr.  Swift,  am  an  utter  stranger  to  all 
his  affairs  and  even  his  person,  which  I  never  saw  to 
my  knowledge,  and  am  now  convinced  the  whole  is 
a  contrivance  of  Pope's  to  blast  the  reputation  of  one 
who  never  injured  him." 

The  savage  attack  on  her  as  "  Sappho,"  in  Pope's 
'^ Imitations  of  Horace,"  drew  forth  a  fresh  remon- 
strance to  Arbuthnot — or,  rather,  a  somewhat  spiteful 
and  ineffective  rejoinder  to  Pope. 

"  Sir, — I  have  perused  the  last  lampoon  of  your 
ingenious  friend,  and  am  not  surprised  you  did  not 
find  me  out  under  the  name  of  Sappho,  because  there 
is  nothing  I  ever  heard  in  our  characters  or  circum- 
stances to  make  a  parallel,  but  as  the  town  (except 
you,  who  know  better)  generally  suppose  Pope  means 
me,  whenever  he  mentions  that  name,  I  cannot  help 
taking  notice  of  the  horrible  malice  he  bears  against 
the  lady  signified  by  that  name,  which  appears  to  be 
irritated  by  supposing  her  writer  of  the  verses  to  the 
Imitator   of  Horace.      Now    I  can    assure    him    they 


128  Life  in  England 

were  wrote  (without  my  knowledge)  by  a  gentleman  of 
great  merit,  whom  I  very  much  esteem,*  who  he  will 
never  guess,  and  who,  if  he  did  know,  he  durst  not 
attack ;  but  I  own  the  design  was  so  well  meant,  and 
so  excellently  executed,  that  I  cannot  be  sorry  they 
were  written.  I  wish  you  would  advise  poor  Pope  to 
turn  to  some  more  honest  livelihood  than  libelling ;  I 
know  he  will  allege  in  his  excuse  that  he  must  write  to 
eat,  and  he  is  now  grown  sensible  that  nobody  will  buy 
his  verses  except  their  curiosity  is  piqued  to  it,  to  see 
what  is  said  of  their  acquaintance ;  but  I  think  this 
method  of  gain  so  exceeding  vile  that  it  admits  of  no 
excuse  at  all." 

Such  tricks  of  fence  were  hardly  calculated  to  parry 
the  thrusts  of  Pope's  satire.  Nor  were  the  verses  of 
Lady  Mary  or  her  ally  sharp  enough  weapons  to  make 
the  conflict  equal,  though  some  lines  of  them  have 
survived,  and  may  be  worth  quoting  here  : 

"  In  two  large  columns  on  thy  motley  page, 
Where  Roman  wit  is  strip'd  with  English  rage  ; 
Where  ribaldry  to  satire  makes  pretence, 
And  modern  scandal  rolls  with  ancient  sense  : 
W^hilst  on  one  side  we  see  how  Horace  thought. 
And  on  the  other  how  he  never  wrote  ; 
Who  can  believe,  who  view  the  bad,  the  good, 
That  the  dull  copyist  better  understood 
That  spirit  he  pretends  to  imitate, 
Than  heretofore  that  Greek  he  did  translate  ? 

Thine  is  just  such  an  image  of  his  pen. 
As  thou  thyself  art  of  the  sons  of  men, 
Where  our  own  species  in  burlesque  we  trace, 

*  Lord  Hervey. 


Life  in  England  129 

A  sign-post  likeness  of  the  human  race, 
That  is  at  once  resemblance  and  disgrace. 

Horace  can  laugh,  is  delicate,  is  clear, 
You  only  coaisely  rail,  or  darkly  sneer  ; 
His  style  is  elegant,  his  diction  pure. 
Whilst  none  thy  crabbed  numbers  can  endure  ; 
Hard  as  thy  heart,  and  as  thy  birth  obscure. 

If  he  has  thorns,  they  all  on  roses  grow  ; 
Thine  all  like  thistles,  and  mean  brambles  show  ; 
With  this  exception,  that,  though  rank  the  soil, 
Weeds  as  they  are,  they  seem  produc'd  by  toil. 

Satire  should,  like  a  polish'd  razor,  keen, 
Wound  with  a  touch,  that's  scarcely  felt  or  seen  : 
Thine  is  an  oyster-knife,  that  hacks  and  hews  ; 
The  rage,  but  not  the  talent  to  abuse  ; 

'k  "k  ^  ^  'k 

Neither  to  folly,  nor  to  vice  confin'd. 
The  object  of  thy  spleen  is  humankind  : 
It  preys  on  all  who  yield,  or  who  resist  : 
To  thee  'tis  provocation  to  exist." 

When  we  again  meet  with  a  letter  from  Lady  Mary, 
she  is  already  contemplating  a  flight  from  England. 
Herfriend  Lady  Pomfret  had  gone  abroad  after  thedeath 
of  her  royal  mistress  Queen  Caroline  in  1737.  Lady 
Mary  corresponded  with  her  for  some  time,  and  at  last,  in 
1739,  followed  her  abroad,  eventually  meeting  her  in 
Florence,  as  chronicled  by  Horace  Walpole  in  a  passage 
already  quoted.  The  few  letters  written  before  Lady 
Mary's  own  departure  give  the  gossip  of  the  time  in 
much  the  same  way  as  those  to  Lady  Mar  : 

"  The  Bath  is  the  present  scene  of  gallantry  and 
magnificence,  where  many  caresses  are  bestowed,  not 
from  admiration  of  the  present,  but  from  spite  to  the 
absent.  The  most  remarkable  circumstance  I  hear  is 
a  coolness  in  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  which  occasions 

9 


I  30  Life  in  England 

much  speculation  ;  it  must  be  disagreeable  to  play  an 

under-part  in  a  second-rate  theatre.     To  me  that  have 

always  been  an   humble   spectator,  it  appears   odd,  to 

see  so  few  desirous  to  quit  the  stage,  though  time  and 

infirmities  have  disabled  them  from  making  a  tolerable 

figure  there.     Our  drama  is  at  present  carried  on  by 

such  whimsical  management,    I   am    half  inclined    to 

think  we  shall  shortly  have  no  plays  at  all.     I  begin  to 

be  of  opinion  that  the  new  Northern  actress  *  has  very 

good    sense  ;  she  hardly  appears  at  all,   and  by  that 

conduct  almost  wears   out   the   disapprobation  of  the 

public.     I  believe  you  are  already  tired  with  this  long 

dissertation  on  so  trifling  a  subject;   I   wish   I   could 

enliven  my  letter  with  some  account  of  literature  ;  but 

wit  and  pleasure  are   no  more,   and  people  play  the 

fool  with  great  impunity  ;  being  very  sure  there  is  not 

spirit  enough  left  in  the  nation  to  set  their  follies  in  a 

ridiculous  light.     Pamphlets  are  the   sole  productions 

of  our  modern  authors,  and  those  profoundly  stupid. 

To  you  that  enjoy  a  purer  air,  and  meet  at  least  with 

vivacity  whenever  you  meet  company,  this  may  appear 

extraordinary ;    but    recollect,    dear    madam,    in    what 

condition  you  left  us ;  and  you  will  easily  believe  to 

what  state  we  are  fallen." 

In  another  letter  Lady  Mary  again  complains  of  this 
universal  preoccupation  with  politics  : 

''  I  hope,  dear  madam,  you  find  at  least  some  amuse- 
ment in  your  travels,  and  though  I  cannot  wish  you  to 
forget  those  friends  in  England,  who  will  never  forget 

*  Madame  Walmoden,  mistress  of  George  II. 


Life  in  Evglajid  131 

you,  yet  I  should  be  pleased  to  hear  you  were  so  far 
entertained  as  to  take  off  all  anxiety  from  your  mind. 
I  know  you  are  capable  of  many  pleasures  that  the  herd 
of  mankind  are  insensible  of;  and  wherever  you  go  I 
do  not  doubt  you  will  find  some  people  that  will  know 
how  to  taste  the  happiness  of  your  conversation.  We 
are  as  much  blinded  in  England  by  politics  and  views 
of  interest  as  we  are  by  mists  and  fogs,  and  'tis  necessary 
to  have  a  very  uncommon  constitution  not  to  be  tainted 
with  the  distempers  of  our  climate.  I  confess  myself 
very  much  infected  with  the  epidemical  dulness ;  yet, 
as  'tis  natural  to  excuse  one's  own  faults  as  much  as 
possible,  I  am  apt  to  flatter  myself  that  my  stupidity  is 
rather  accidental  than  real ;  at  least,  I  am  sure  that  I 
want  no  vivacity  when  I  think  of  my  Lady  Pomfret, 
and  that  it  is  with  the  warmest  inclination  as  well 
as  the  highest  esteem  that  I  am  ever  affectionately 
yours." 

One  item  of  the  gossip  in  the  letters  may  be  extracted 
as  showing  Lady  Mary's  views  on  alliances  between 
the  operatic  stage  and  the  aristocracy.  Perhaps, 
however,  she  was  too  severe  on  Mr.  Beard,  who  seems 
to  have  been  ''very  respectable." 

''  Lady  Harriet  Herbert "  (Lady  Mary  writes)  "  fur- 
nished the  tea-tables  here  with  fresh  tattle  for  the  last 
fortnight.  I  was  one  of  the  first  informed  of  her 
adventure  by  Lady  Gage,  who  was  told  that  morning 
by  a  priest,  that  she  had  desired  him  to  marry  her  the 
next  day  to  Beard,  who  sings  in  the  farces  at  Drury 
Lane.     He   refused   her  that  good  office,   and  imme- 

9—2 


132  Life  in  England 

diately  told  Lady  Gage,  who  (having  been  unfortunate 
in  her  friends)  was  frighted  at  this  affair  and  asked  my 
advice.  I  told  her  honestly,  that  since  the  lady  was 
capable  of  such  amours,  I  did  not  doubt  if  this  was 
broke  off  she  would  bestow  her  person  and  fortune  on 
some  hackney-coachman  or  chairman ;  and  that  I 
really  saw  no  method  of  saving  her  from  ruin,  and  her 
family  from  dishonour,  but  by  poisoning  her ;  and 
offered  to  be  at  the  expense  of  the  arsenic,  and  even 
to  administer  it  with  m}'  own  hands,  if  she  would  invite 
her  to  drink  tea  with  her  that  evening.  But  on  her 
not  approving  that  method,  she  sent  to  Lady  Monta- 
cute,  Mrs.  Dunch,  and  all  the  relations  within  the 
reach  of  messengers.  They  carried  Lady  Harriet  to 
Twickenham  ;  though  I  told  them  it  was  a  bad  air  for 
girls.  She  is  since  returned  to  London,  and  some 
people  believe  her  to  be  married  ;  others,  that  he  is  too 
much  intimidated  by  Mr.  Waldegrave's  *  threats  to 
dare  to  go  through  the  ceremony ;  but  the  secret  is 
now  public,  and  in  what  manner  it  will  conclude  I 
know  not.  Such  examples  are  very  detrimental  to  our 
whole  sex  ;  and  are  apt  to  influence  the  other  into  a 
belief  that  we  are  unfit  to  manage  either  liberty  or 
money." 

In  return  for  these  instalments  of  gossip,  Lady  Pom- 
fret  returned  descriptions  of  her  travels,  probably  much 
in  the  same  vein  as  her  published  letters  to  Lady  Hert- 
ford. Tedious  as  these  epistles  probably  were.  Lady 
Mary  either  found  or  affected  to  find  them  welcome. 

*  A  brother  of  Lady  Herbert,  who  was  the  daughter  of  the  Earl 
of  Waldegrave. 


Life  in   England  133 

"  I  will  say  nothing  of  your  complaints  of  your  own 
dulness ;  I  should  say  something  very  rough  if  I  did ; 
'tis  impossible  to  reconcile  them  to  the  sincerity  that  I 
am  willing  to  flatter  myself  I  find  in  the  other  parts  of 
your  letter.  'Tis  impossible  you  should  not  be  con- 
scious that  such  letters  as  yours  want  not  the  trimmings 
of  news,  which  are  only  necessary  to  the  plain  Spital- 
fields  style,  beginning  with  hoping  you  are  in  good  health, 
and  concluding  pray  believe  me  to  he,  etc.,  etc.  You  give 
me  all  the  pleasure  of  an  agreeable  author  ;  and  I  really 
wish  you  had  leisure  to  give  me  all  the  length  too,  and 
that  all  your  letters  were  to  come  to  me  in  twelve  tomes. 
You  will  stare  at  this  impudent  wish ;  but  you  know 
imagination  has  no  bounds ;  and  'tis  harder  for  me  to 
be  content  with  a  moderate  quantity  of  your  writing, 
than  it  was  for  any  South  Sea  director  to  resolve  to  get 
no  more.  This  is  a  strange  way  of  giving  thanks  ; 
however,  'tis  the  clearest  proof  of  my  tasting  my 
happiness  in  your  correspondence,  to  beg  so  earnestly 
not  only  the  continuance  but  the  increase  of  it." 

The  last  letter  of  any  note  to  Lady  Pomfret  before 
Lady  Mary's  own  journey  abroad  gives  an  amusing 
description  of  a  raid  made  by  certain  noble  ladies  of 
the  Opposition  on  the  House  of  Lords.  Politics  were 
just  now  at  fever-heat,  as  Sir  Robert  Walpole's  power 
was  tottering  under  ceaseless  attacks  from  the  so-called 
"  Patriots  "  ;  and  Mr.  VVortley  Montagu  was  zealous 
among  the  assailants. 

"  Here  is  no  news  to  be  sent  you  from  this  place, 
which  has  been  for  this  fortnight  and  still  continues 


134  ^l/^  ^^^  Englana 

overwhelmed  with  poHtics,  and  which  are  of  so 
mysterious  a  nature,  one  ought  to  have  some  of  the 
gifts  of  Lilly  or  Partridge  *  to  be  able  to  write  about 
them ;  and  I  leave  all  those  dissertations  to  those 
distinguished  mortals  who  are  endowed  with  the  talent 
of  divination  ;  though  I  am  at  present  the  only  one  of 
my  sex  who  seems  to  be  of  that  opinion,  the  ladies 
having  showm  their  zeal  and  appetite  for  knowledge  in 
a  most  glorious  manner.  At  the  last  warm  debate  in 
the  House  of  Lords,  it  was  unanimously  resolved  there 
should  be  no  crowd  of  unnecessary  auditors ;  con- 
sequently the  fair  sex  were  excluded,  and  the  gallery 
destined  to  the  sole  use  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
Notwithstanding  which  determination,  a  tribe  of  dames 
resolved  to  show  on  this  occasion  that  neither  men  nor 
laws  could  resist  them.  These  heroines  were  Lady 
Huntingdon, "f  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry,  the  Duchess 
of  Ancaster,  Lady  Westmoreland,  Lady  Cobham, 
Lady  Charlotte  Edwin,  Lady  Archibald  Hamilton  and 
her  daughter,  Mrs.  Scott,  and  Mrs.  Pendarves,  and 
Lady  Frances  Saunderson.  I  am  thus  particular  in 
their  names,  since  I  look  upon  them  to  be  the  boldest 
assertors,  and  most  resigned  sufferers  for  liberty,  I  ever 
read  of.  They  presented  themselves  at  the  door  at 
nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  w^here  Sir  William 
Saunderson  respectfully  informed  them  the  Chancellor 

*  Well-known  astrologers  and  compilers  of  prophetic  almanacs. 
It  was  on  Partridge  that  Swift  played  his  celebrated  joke  of 
announcing  and  describing  his  death. 

t  Foundress  of  the  "  Countess  of  Huntingdon's  Connection." 


Life  m  England  135 

had  made  an  order  against  their  admittance.  The 
Duchess  of  Queensberr}-,  as  head  of  the  squadron, 
pished  at  the  ill-breeding  of  a  mere  lawyer,  and  desired 
him  to  let  them  upstairs  privately.  After  some  modest 
refusals,  he  swore  by  G —  he  would  not  let  them  in. 
Her  grace,  wath  a  noble  warmth,  answered,  by  G — 
they  would  come  in  in  spite  of  the  Chancellor  and  the 
whole  House.  This  being  reported,  the  Peers  resolved 
to  starve  them  out ;  an  order  was  made  that  the  doors 
should  not  be  opened  till,  they  had  raised  their  siege. 
These  Amazons  now  showed  themselves  qualified  for 
the  duty  even  of  foot  soldiers ;  they  stood  there  till 
five  in  the  afternoon,  without  sustenance,  every  now 
and  then  playing  volleys  of  thumps,  kicks,  and 
raps  against  the  door,  with  so  much  violence 
that  the  speakers  in  the  House  were  scarce  heard. 
When  the  Lords  were  not  to  be  conquered  by  this, 
the  two  Duchesses  (very  well  apprised  of  the  use  of 
stratagems  in  war)  commanded  a  dead  silence  of  half 
an  hour ;  and  the  Chancellor,  who  thought  this  a 
certain  proof  of  their  absence  (the  Commons  also  being 
very  impatient  to  enter),  gave  order  for  the  opening  of 
the  door  ;  upon  which  they  all  rushed  in,  pushed  aside 
their  competitors,  and  placed  themselves  in  the  front 
rows  of  the  gallery.  They  stayed  there  till  after  eleven, 
when  the  House  rose  ;  and  during  the  debate  gave 
applause,  and  showed  marks  of  dislike,  not  only  by 
smiles  and  winks  (which  have  always  been  allowed  in 
these  cases),  but  by  noisy  laughs  and  apparent  con- 
tempts ;  which  is  supposed  the  true  reason  why  poor 


136  Life  in  England 

Lord  Hervey  spoke  miserably.  I  beg  your  pardon, 
dear  madam,  for  this  long  relation  ;  but  'tis  impossible 
to  be  short  on  so  copious  a  subject ;  and  you  must  own 
this  action  very  well  worthy  of  record,  and  I  think  not 
to  be  paralleled  in  history,  ancient  or  modern.  I  look 
so  little  in  my  own  eyes  (who  was  at  that  time  in- 
gloriously  sitting  over  a  tea-table),  I  hardly  dare 
subscribe  myself  even, 

"  Yours." 
A  few  months  later  Lady  Mary  was  following  in  the 
steps   of  her    friend,   and    had    left    England,    only  to 
return  thither  to  die. 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  137 


CHAPTER  V 

TRAVELS    IN    ITALY   AND    FRANCE 

Lady  Mary  sets  out — Prosperity  of  France — Company  on  the  Way 
— Advantages  of  Venice— Freedom  of  Society — Uncertainty  of 
Plans— English  Youths  at  Venice  —  Excuses  for  not  joining 
Lady  Pomfret — The  Electoral  Prince  of  Saxony — Festivities  at 
Venice  —  Great  Regatta  —  Lady  Mary  joins  Lady  Pomfret  at 
Florence— Paper  Money  at  Rome — A  Roman  Chaise- Spanish 
Ways  at  Naples — Vain  Attempts  to  see  Herculaneum— Ignor- 
ance of  the  Court  of  Naples — The  Pretender  at  Rome— Lady 
Mary's  Influence  over  the  English  there  —  Changes  in  Italian 
Manners  —  Customs  of  Genoa — English  Policy  a  Laughing- 
stock— Mr.  Villette  at  Turin— Stay  at  Chambdry  —  Cheapness 
in  Savoy  —  Arrangements  for  an  Interview  with  her  Son  — 
Journey  to  Avignon — Interview  with  her  Son — His  Weakness 
of  Mind  —  Lady  Mary's  Belvedere  at  Avignon  —  Persecuted 
Protestants  at  Nimes — Plan  of  a  French  Descent  on  England 

—  Government  of  Avignon— Pope's    Death — Avignon   becomes 
disagreeable — Influx  of  Jacobites— Lady  Mary  leaves  Avignon 

—  Count   Palazzo  —  The  Defeated  Spanish   Army  —  A  German 
Escort— Arrival  at  Brescia. 

On  the  26th  of  July  (o.s.),  1739,  Lady  Mary  Wortley 
Montagu  arrived  at  Dover  to  embark  for  France.  She 
sent  a  note  to  her  husband  at  every  stage  of  the 
journey,  and  received  rather  stiff  but  never  unkindly 
letters  in  reply ;  so  that  it  is  plain  that  there  was  no 


138  Travels  hi  Italy  and  France 

quarrel  between  the  two  as  a  prelude  to  her  departure. 
France  w^as  much  changed  from  when  Lady  Mary  had 
returned  home  in  1718.  The  long  peace,  only  broken 
by  the  short  and  easy  war  of  the  Polish  Succession, 
had  effaced  the  misery  of  the  last  years  of  Louis  XIV. 
Cardinal  Fleury,  the  chief  Minister  of  Louis  XV.,  was 
as  notoriously  pacific  as  Walpole  in  England. 

"  France  is  so  much  improved,  it  is  not  to  be  known 
to  be  the  same  country  we  passed  through  twenty  years 
ago.  Everything  I  see  speaks  in  praise  of  Cardinal 
Fleury ;  the  roads  are  all  mended,  and  the  greatest 
part  of  them  paved  as  well  as  the  streets  of  Paris, 
planted  on  both  sides  like  the  roads  in  Holland  ;  and 
such  good  care  taken  against  robbers,  that  you  may 
cross  the  country  with  your  purse  in  your  hand :  but 
as  to  travelling  incognito,  I  may  as  well  walk  i^icogniio 
in  the  Pail-Mall.  There  is  not  any  town  in  France 
where  there  is  not  English,  Scotch,  or  Irish  families 
established ;  and  I  have  met  with  people  that  have 
seen  me  (though  often  such  as  I  do  not  remember  to 
have  seen)  in  every  town  I  have  passed  through ;  and 
I  think  the  farther  I  go,  the  more  acquaintance  I 
meet." 

And  again,  in  the  same  letter : 

*'  The  French  are  more  changed  than  their  roads ; 
instead  of  pale,  yellow^  faces,  WTapped  up  in  blankets, 
as  we  saw  them,  the  villages  are  all  filled  with  fresh- 
coloured  lusty  peasants,  in  good  cloth  and  clean  linen. 
It  is  incredible  the  air  of  plenty  and  content  that  is 
over  the  whole  countrv." 


Travels  in  Italy  a7id  France  139 

This  letter  was  written  at  Dijon ;  and  from  there 
Lady  Mary  went  on  by  Lyons  to  Turin,  and  deter- 
mined to  proceed  to  Venice  for  the  carnival,  in 
hopes  of  meeting  Lady  Pomfret,  whose  son.  Lord 
Lempster,  she  had  met  at  Lyons.  Lord  Carlisle, 
whose  son  was  detained  by  serious  illness,  also  came 
in  her  way ;  and  friends  or  acquaintances  were  met  at 
every  turn.  She  writes  to  her  husband  on  her  arrival 
at  Venice  : 

"  I  met  nothing  disagreeable  in  my  journey  but  too 
much  company.  I  find  (contrary  to  the  rest  of  the 
world)  I  did  not  think  myself  so  considerable  as  I  am ; 
for  I  verily  believe,  if  one  of  the  pyramids  of  Egypt 
had  travelled,  it  could  not  have  been  more  followed ; 
and  if  I  had  received  all  the  visits  that  have  been 
intended  me,  I  should  have  stopped  at  least  a  year  in 
every  town  I  came  through." 

With  Venice  Lady  Mary  was  charmed,  and  recom- 
mended it  warmly  to  her  friend  Lady  Pomfret,  who 
had  not  yet  arrived  : 

*'  I  like  this  place  extremely,  and  am  of  opinion  you 
would  do  so  too :  as  to  cheapness,  I  think  'tis  impos- 
sible to  find  any  part  of  Europe  where  both  the  laws 
and  customs  are  so  contrived  purposely  to  avoid 
expenses  of  all  sorts ;  and  here  is  a  universal  liberty 
that  is  certainly  one  of  the  greatest  agrcmens  in  life. 
We  have  foreign  ambassadors  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  who  have  all  visited  me.  I  have  received  visits 
from  many  of  the  noble  Venetian  ladies ;  and  upon  the 
whole  I   am  very  much   at   my  ease   here.     If  I  was 


140  Travels  in   Italy  and  France 

writing  to  Lady  Sophia,*  I  would  tell  her  of  the 
comedies  and  operas  which  are  every  night,  at  very 
low  prices ;  but  I  believe  even  you  will  agree  with  me 
that  they  are  ordered  to  be  as  convenient  as  possible, 
every  mortal  going  in  a  mask,  and  consequently  no 
trouble  in  dressing,  or  forms  of  any  kind.  I  should  be 
very  glad  to  see  Rome,  which  was  my  first  intention 
(I  mean  next  to  seeing  yourself) ;  but  am  deterred 
from  it  by  reasons  that  are  put  into  my  head  by  all 
sorts  of  people  that  speak  to  me  of  it.  There  are 
innumerable  little  dirty  spies  about  all  English ;  and  I 
have  so  often  had  the  ill-fortune  to  have  false  witness 
borne  against  me,  I  fear  my  star  on  this  occasion." 

And  a  few  days  later  she  returned  to  the  charge  on 
the  same  topic : 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  have  spoken  my  real  thoughts  in 
relation  to  Venice ;  but  I  will  be  more  particular  in  my 
description,  lest  you  should  find  the  same  reason  of 
complaint  you  have  hitherto  experienced.  It  is  im- 
possible to  give  any  rule  for  the  agreeableness  of  con- 
versation ;  but  here  is  so  great  a  variety,  I  think  'tis 
impossible  not  to  find  some  to  suit  every  taste.  Here 
are  foreign  ministers  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  who, 
as  they  have  no  Court  to  employ  their  hours,  are  over- 
joyed to  enter  into  commerce  with  any  stranger  of 
distinction.  As  I  am  the  only  lady  here  at  present,  I 
can  assure  you  I  am  courted,  as  if  I  was  the  only  one 
in  the  world.     As  to  all  the  conveniences  of  life,  they 

*  Lady   Sophia   Fermor.   sister  of   Lord    Pomfret.  and   a  noted 
beauty.     She  afterwards  married  Lord  Carteret. 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  141 

are  to  be  had  at  very  easy  rates ;  and  for  those  that 
love  public  places,  here  are  two  playhouses  and  two 
operas  constantly  performed  every  night,  at  exceeding 
low  prices.  But  you  will  have  no  reason  to  examine 
that  article,  no  more  than  myself;  all  the  ambassadors 
having  boxes  appointed  them ;  and  I  have  every  one  of 
their  keys  at  my  service,  not  only  for  my  own  person, 
but  whoever  I  please  to  carry  or  send.  I  do  not  make 
much  use  of  this  privilege,  to  their  great  astonishment. 
It  is  the  fashion  for  the  greatest  ladies  to  walk  the 
streets,  which  are  admirably  paved  ;  and  a  mask,  price 
sixpence,  with  a  little  cloak,  and  the  head  of  a  domino, 
the  genteel  dress  to  carry  you  everywhere.  The  greatest 
equipage  is  a  gondola,  that  holds  eight  persons,  and  is 
the  price  of  an  English  chair.  And  it  is  so  much  the 
established  fashion  for  everybody  to  live  their  own  way, 
that  nothing  is  more  ridiculous  than  censuring  the  ac- 
tions of  another.  This  would  be  terrible  in  London, 
where  we  have  little  other  diversion ;  but  for  me,  who 
never  found  any  pleasure  in  malice,  I  bless  my  destiny 
that  has  conducted  me  to  a  part  where  people  are 
better  employed  than  in  talking  of  the  affairs  of  their 
acquaintance.  It  is  at  present  excessive  cold  (which  is 
the  only  thing  I  have  to  find  fault  with) ;  but  in  recom- 
pense we  have  a  clear  bright  sun,  and  fogs  and  factions 
things  unheard  of  in  this  climate." 

Lady  Pomfret,  however,  did  not  come,  and  appar- 
ently desired  Lady  Mary  to  come  to  her,  to  which  the 
latter  demurred,  not  knowing  (she  said)  what  her  hus- 
band's wishes  might  be. 


142  Travels  in  Italy  and  France 

*'  You  have  put  me  to  a  very  difficult  choice ;  yet, 
when  I  consider  we  are  both  in  Italy,  and  yet  do  not 
see  one  another,  I  am  astonished  at  the  capriciousness 
of  my  fortune.  My  affairs  are  so  uncertain,  I  can 
answer  for  nothing  that  is  future.  I  have  taken  some 
pains  to  put  the  inclination  for  travelling  into  Mr. 
Wortley's  head,  and  was  so  much  afraid  he  would 
change  his  mind,  that  I  hastened  before  him  in  order 
(at  least)  to  secure  my  journey.  He  proposed  following 
me  in  six  wxeks,  his  business  requiring  his  presence  at 
Newcastle.  Since  that,  the  change  of  scene  that  has 
happened  in  England  has  made  his  friends  persuade 
him  to  attend  Parliament  this  session  :  so  that  what 
his  inclinations,  which  must  govern  mine,  will  be  next 
spring,  I  cannot  absolutely  foresee.  For  my  own  part, 
I  like  my  own  situation  so  well  that  it  will  be  a  dis- 
pleasure to  me  to  change  it.  To  postpone  such  a  con- 
versation as  yours  a  whole  twelvemonth  is  a  terrible 
appearance ;  on  the  other  hand,  I  would  not  follow 
the  example  of  the  first  of  our  sex,  and  sacrifice  for 
a  present  pleasure  a  more  lasting  happiness.  In  short, 
I  can  determine  nothing  on  the  subject.  When  you 
are  at  Florence,  we  may  debate  it  over  again." 

This  decision  to  stay  at  Venice  till  summer  seems 
to  have  caused  some  dispute  with  Lady  Pomfret ;  but 
the  winter  and  spring  were  too  inclement  for  Lady 
Mary  to  venture  over  the  Apennines^  much  as  she  pro- 
fessed to  long  for  the  Countess's  conversation  in  the 
following  letter : 

*  I  am  impatient  to  hear  good  sense  pronounced  in 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  143 

my  native  tongue ;  having  only  heard  my  language  out 
of  the  mouths  of  boys  and  governors*  for  these  five 
months.  Here  are  inundations  of  them  broke  in  upon 
us  this  carnival,  and  my  apartment  must  be  their 
refuge ;  the  greater  part  of  them  having  kept  an  in- 
violable fidelity  to  the  languages  their  nurses  taught 
them ;  their  whole  business  abroad  (as  far  as  I  can 
perceive)  being  to  buy  new  clothes,  in  which  they 
shine  in  some  obscure  coffee-house,  where  they  are 
sure  of  meeting  only  one  another.  ...  I  find  the  spirit 
of  patriotism  so  strong  in  me  every  time  I  see  them, 
that  I  look  on  them  as  the  greatest  blockheads  in 
nature ;  and,  to  say  truth,  the  compound  of  booby 
and  petit  maitre  makes  up  a  very  odd  sort  of  animal." 

Thus,  in  spite  of  the  importunities  of  Lady  Pomfret 
and  her  son  Lord  Lempster,  who  came  to  Venice,  Lady 
Mary  resolved  to  remain,  excusing  herself  as  she  best 
could  : 

"To  suspect  me  of  want  of  desire  to  see  you,  is 
accusing  at  once  both  my  taste  and  my  sincerity ;  and 
you  will  allow  that  all  the  w^orld  are  sensible  upon  these 
subjects.  But  you  have  now  given  me  an  occasion  to 
thank  you,  in  sending  me  the  most  agreeable  young 
man  I  have  seen  in  my  travels.^  I  wish  it  was  in  my 
\oower  to  be  of  use  to  him  ;  but  what  little  services  I 


im  able  to  do  him,  I  shall  not  fail  of  performing  with 
|;reat  pleasure.  I  have  already  received  a  very  consider- 
able one  from  him  in  a  conversation  where  you  was  the 

*  Private  tutors  travelling  with  their  pupils. 
t   Lord  Lempster,  Lady  Pomfret's  son. 


144  Travels  in  Italy  and  France 

subject,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  him  talk 
of  3'ou  in  a  manner  that  agreed  with  my  own  way  of 
thinking.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  that  I  set  out  for 
Florence  next  week ;  but  the  winter  is  yet  so  severe, 
and  by  all  report,  even  that  of  our  friends,  the  roads  so 
bad,  it  is  impossible  to  think  of  it.  We  are  now  in  the 
midst  of  carnival  amusements,  which  are  more  than 
usual,  for  the  entertainment  of  the  Electoral  Prince 
of  Saxony,  and  I  am  obliged  to  live  in  a  hurry  very 
inconsistent  with  philosophy,  and  extreme  different 
from  the  hfe  I  projected  to  lead.  But  'tis  long  since 
I  have  been  of  Prior's  opinion,  who,  I  think,  somewhere 
compares  us  to  cards,  who  are  but  pla3^ed  with,  do  not 
play.  At  least  such  has  been  my  destiny  from  my  youth 
upwards ;  and  neither  Dr.  Clarke  nor  Lady  Sundon* 
could  ever  convince  me  that  I  was  a  free  agent ;  for 
I  have  always  been  disposed  of  more  by  little  accidents, 
than  either  my  own  inclinations  or  interest." 

The  writer  repeats  the  same  excuse  in  a  later  letter 
to  Lady  Pomfret : 

"  I  send  you  this  letter  by  so  agreeable  a  companion,-!* 
that  I  think  it  a  very  considerable  present.  He  will  tell 
you  that  he  has  pressed  me  ver}^  much  to  set  out  for 
Florence  immediately,  and  I  have  the  greatest  inclina- 
tion in  the  world  to  do  it ;  but,  as  I  have  already  said, 
I  am  but  too  well  convinced  that  all  things  are  relative, 
and  mankind  was  not  made  to  follow  their  own  inclina- 

*  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  was  in  favour  with  Queen  Caroline,  who 
studied  philosophy  with  him  and  her  confidante  Lady  Sundon. 
t   Lady  Pomfret's  son,  Lord  Lempster. 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  145 

tions.  I  have  pushed  as  fair  for  liberty  as  any  one ;  I 
have  most  philosophically  thrown  off  all  the  chains  of 
custom  and  subjection  ;  and  also  rooted  out  of  my 
heart  all  seeds  of  ambition  and  avarice.  In  such  a 
state,  if  freedom  could  be  found,  that  lot  would  sure  be 
mine ;  yet  certain  atoms  of  attraction  and  repulsion 
keep  me  still  in  suspense ;  and  I  cannot  absolutely  set 
the  day  of  my  departure,  though  I  very  sincerely  wish 
for  it,  and  have  one  reason  more  than  usual :  this  town 
being  at  present  infested  with  English,  who  torment 
me  as  much  as  the  frogs  and  lice  did  the  palace  of 
Pharaoh,  and  are  surprised  that  I  will  not  suffer  them 
to  skip  about  my  house  from  morning  till  night ;  me, 
that  never  opened  my  doors  to  such  sort  of  animals  in 
England.  I  wish  I  knew  a  corner  of  the  world  inac- 
cessible to  petits-maitres  and  fine  ladies.  I  verily  believed 
when  I  left  London  I  should  choose  my  own  company 
for  the  remainder  of  my  days ;  which  I  find  more  diffi- 
cult to  do  abroad  than  at  home ;  and  with  humility  I 
sighing  own, 

"  '  Some  stronger  power  eludes  the  sickly  will, 
Dashes  my  rising  hope  with  certain  ill, 
And  makes  me  with  reflective  trouble  see, 
That  all  is  destin'd  that  I  fancy'd  free.' " 

Venice  was  a  scene  of  much  gaiety,  the  Electoral 
Prince  of  Saxony  (son  of  the  Elector  of  Saxony,  who 
was  also  King  of  Poland)  having  come  there.  He  was 
a  cripple,  and  was  "  carried  about  in  a  chair,  though 
a  beautiful  person  from  the  waist  upwards :  it  is  said 
his  family  design  him  for  the  Church.''     However,  the 

10 


146  Travels  in  Italy  and  France 

Prince  afterwards  succeeded  his  father  as  Elector  in 
1763,  but  died  the  same  year.  His  "  governor,"  Count 
Wackerbarth,  was  an  old  friend  of  Lady  Mary's,  who 
consequently  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  Prince's  party, 
and  came  in  for  the  festivities  given  in  his  honour, 
which  she  could  not  well  avoid.  As  she  writes  in 
April,  1740,  to  Lady  Pomfret : 

**  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of  here  but  too  much 
diversion,  as  it  is  called  ;  and  which  literally  diverts 
me  from  amusements  much  more  agreeable.  I  can 
hardly  believe  it  is  me  dressed  up  at  balls,  and  stalking 
about  at  assemblies ;  and  should  not  be  so  much 
surprised  at  suffering  any  of  Ovid's  transformations ; 
having  more  disposition,  as  I  thought,  to  harden  into 
stone  or  timber,  than  to  be  enlivened  into  these 
tumultuary  entertainments,  where  I  am  amazed  to 
find  myself  seated  by  a  sovereign  prince,  after  travel- 
ling a  thousand  miles  to  establish  myself  in  the  bosom 
of  a  republic,  with  a  design  to  lose  all  memory  of  kings 
and  courts." 

The  shows  arranged  in  honour  of  the  Electoral 
Prince  culminated  in  a  great  regatta,  which  Lady 
Mary  witnessed  from  the  windows  of  her  friend  the 
Procurator  Grimani,  and  of  which  she  sent  a  full 
description  to  her  husband. 

"  You  seem  to  mention  the  regatta  in  a  manner  as 
if  you  would  be  pleased  with  a  description  of  it.  It 
is  a  race  of  boats :  they  are  accompanied  by  vessels 
which  they  call  Piotes,  and  Bichones,  that  are  built 
at  the  expense  of  the  nobles  and  strangers  that  have 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  147 

a  mind  to  display  their  magnificence ;  they  are  a  sort 
of  machines  adorned  with  all  that  sculpture  and  gild- 
ing can  do  to  make  a  shining  appearance.  Several  of 
them  cost  one  thousand  pounds  sterling,  and  I  believe 
none  less  than  five  hundred  ;  they  are  rowed  by  gon- 
doliers dressed  in  rich  habits,  suitable  to  what  they 
represent.  There  was  enough  of  them  to  look  like  a 
little  fleet,  and  I  own  I  never  saw  a  finer  sight.  It 
would  be  too  long  to  describe  every  one  in  particular ; 
I  shall  only  name  the  principal : — the  Signora  Pisani 
Mocenigo's  represented  the  Chariot  of  the  Night, 
drawn  by  four  sea-horses,  and  showing  the  rising  of 
the  moon,  accompanied  with  stars,  the  statues  on  each 
side  representing  the  hours  to  the  number  of  twenty- 
four,  rowed  by  gondoliers  in  rich  liveries,  which  were 
changed  three  times,  all  of  equal  richness,  and  the 
decorations  changed  also  to  the  dawn  of  Aurora  and 
the  mid-day  sun,  the  statues  being  new  dressed  every 
time,  the  first  in  green,  the  second  time  red,  and  the 
last  blue,  all  equally  laced  with  silver,  there  being 
three  races.  Signor  Soranzo's  represented  the  kingdom 
of  Poland,  with  all  the  provinces  and  rivers  in  that 
dominion,  with  a  concert  of  the  best  instrumental 
music  in  rich  Polish  habits ;  the  painting  and  gilding 
were  exquisite  in  their  kinds.  Signor  Contarini's 
piote  showed  the  Liberal  Arts ;  Apollo  was  seated  on 
the  stern  upon  Mount  Parnassus,  Pegasus  behind,  and 
the  Muses  seated  round  him  :  opposite  was  a  figure 
representing  Painting,  with  Fame  blowing  her  trumpet; 
and  on  each  side  Sculpture  and  Music  in  their  proper 

10—2 


148  Travels  m  Italy  and  France 

dresses.  The  Procurator  Foscarini's  was  the  Chariot 
of  Flora  guided  by  Cupids,  and  adorned  with  all  sorts 
of  flowers,  rose-trees,  etc.  Signor  Julio  Contarini['s] 
represented  the  Triumphs  of  Valour ;  Victory  was  on 
the  stern,  and  all  the  ornaments  warlike  trophies  of 
every  kind.  Signor  Correri's  was  the  Adriatic  Sea 
receiving  into  her  arms  the  Hope  of  Saxon}^  Signor 
Alvisio  Mocenigo's  was  the  Garden  of  Hesperides ; 
the  whole  fable  was  represented  by  different  statues. 
Signor  Querini  had  the  Chariot  of  Venus  drawn  by 
doves,  so  well  done,  they  seemed  ready  to  fly  upon  the 
water ;  the  Loves  and  Graces  attended  her.  Signor 
Paul  Doria  had  the  Chariot  of  Diana,  who  appeared 
hunting  in  a  large  wood  :  the  trees,  hounds,  stag,  and 
nymphs,  all  done  naturally  :  the  gondoliers  dressed  like 
peasants  attending  the  chase  :  and  Endymion,  lying 
under  a  large  tree,  gazing  on  the  goddess.  Signor 
Angelo  Labbia  represented  Poland  crowning  of  Saxony, 
waited  on  by  the  Virtues  and  subject  Provinces.  Signor 
Angelo  Molino  was  Neptune  waited  on  by  the  Rivers. 
Signor  Vicenzo  Morosini's  piote  showed  the  Triumphs 
of  Peace :  Discord  being  chained  at  her  feet,  and  she 
surrounded  with  the  Pleasures,  etc." 

At  last,  after  numerous  delays.  Lady  Mary  succeeded 
in  leaving  Venice,  though  suffering  herself,  as  she  seems 
often  to  have  done,  from  a  swelled  face,  which  she  still 
had  when  she  joined  Lady  Pomfret  and  Lady  Walpole 
at  Florence,  and  was  visited  by  Horace  Walpole. 

The  beauties  of  Florence  and  its  artistic  treasures 
she  admired,  but  apparently  left  to  Lady  Pomfret  to 


Travels  ifi  Italy  and  France  149 

describe  ;  though  the  compiler  of  the  volume  of 
letters  of  1767  duly  supplied  a  long  and  dull  descrip- 
tion, which  is  written  rather  in  the  style  of  a  bad  imi- 
tation of  Dr.  Johnson  than  in  Lady  Mary's  own  livelier 
and  less  polysyllabic  manner.  After  nearly  two  months 
at  Florence  she  passed  on  to  Rome,  which  was  suffer- 
ing under  too  great  an  emission  of  Papal  paper-money. 
As  she  writes  to  her  husband  : 

''  Belloni,  who  is  the  greatest,  banker  not  only  of 
Rome  but  all  Italy,  furnished  me  with  fifty  sequins, 
which  he  solemnly  swore  was  all  the  money  he  had  in 
the  house.  They  go  to  market  with  paper,  pay  the 
lodgings  with  paper,  and,  in  short,  there  is  no  specie 
to  be  seen,  which  raises  the  price  of  everything  to  the 
utmost  extravagance,  nobody  knowing  what  to  ask  for 
their  goods.  It  is  said  the  present  Pope*  (who  has  a 
very  good  character)  has  declared  he  will  endeavour  a 
remedy,  though  it  is  very  difficult  to  find  one.  He  was 
bred  a  lawyer,  and  has  passed  the  greatest  part  of  his 
life  in  that  profession  ;  and  is  so  sensible  of  the  misery 
of  the  State,  that  he  is  reported  to  have  said,  that  he 
never  thought  himself  in  want  till  since  his  elevation. 
He  has  no  relations  which  he  takes  any  notice  of.  The 
country  belonging  to  him,  which  I  have  passed,  is  al- 
most uninhabited,  and  in  a  poverty  beyond  what  I  ever 
saw." 

The   chaise   which    she    purchased    to   take    her   to 
Naples  was  no  more  firm  than  the  credit  of  the  Papal 
States,  and  collapsed   promptly  on  the  second  day  of 
*  Benedict  XIV.,  but  recently  chosen. 


150  Travels  in  Italy  and  France 

the  journey.  However,  it  was  cobbled  together  suffi- 
ciently to  reach  Naples,  where  Lady  Mary  thought  of 
settling,  preferring  the  manners  of  the  Neapolitans  to 
those  of  the  Romans  and  Florentines,  in  spite  of  their 
worse  reputation.     She  writes  to  her  husband  : 

'*  I  like  the  climate  extremely,  which  is  now  so  soft, 
I  am  actually  sitting  without  any  want  of  a  fire.  I  do 
not  find  the  people  so  savage  as  they  were  represented 
to  me.  I  have  received  visits  from  several  of  the  prin- 
cipal ladies ;  and  I  think  1  could  meet  with  as  much 
company  here  as  I  desire ;  but  here  is  one  article  both 
disagreeable  and  incommodious,  which  is  the  grandeur 
of  the  equipages.  Two  coaches,  two  running  footmen, 
four  other  footmen,  a  gentleman  usher,  and  two  pages, 
are  as  necessary  here  as  the  attendance  of  a  single 
servant  is  at  London.  All  the  Spanish  customs  are 
observed  very  rigorously.  I  could  content  myself  with 
all  of  them  except  this :  but  I  see  plainly,  from  my  own 
observation  as  well  as  intelligence,  that  it  is  not  to  be 
dispensed  with,  \vhich  I  am  heartily  vexed  at. 

''The  affairs  of  Europe  are  now  so  uncertain,  it 
appears  reasonable  to  me  to  wait  a  Httle,  before  I  fix 
my  residence,  that  I  may  not  find  myself  in  the  theatre 
of  war,  which  is  threatened  on  all?sides." 

However,  the  Spanish  formality  kept  up  by  the 
Spanish  Bourbon  prince  on  the  throne  (Charles,  after- 
wards Charles  HL  of  Spain)  repelled  her;  and  the 
death  of  the  Emperor  Charles  VL  in  October,  1740, 
had  thrown  European  politics  into  such  confusion, 
owing  to  the  impending  struggle  for  the  inheritance 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  151 

of  the  Austrian  domains,  that  it  was  hard  to  say  where 
or  when  war  might  break  out.  Meanwhile,  to  gratify 
her  own  taste  and  that  of  her  husband  for  classical 
antiquities,  she  tried  to  see  the  ruins  of  Herculaneum. 

''  The  town  lately  discovered  is  at  Portici,  about 
three  miles  from  this  place.  Since  the  first  discovery, 
no  care  has  been  taken,  and  the  ground  fallen  in,  [so] 
that  the  present  passage  to  it  is,  as  I  am  told  by  every- 
body, extreme  dangerous,  and  for  some  time  nobody 
ventures  into  it.  I  had  been  assured  by  some  English 
gentlemen,  that  were  let  down  into  it  the  last  year, 
that  the  whole  account  given  in  the  newspapers  is 
literally  true.  Probably  great  curiosities  might  be 
found  there ;  but  there  has  been  no  expense  made, 
either  by  propping  the  ground,  or  clearing  a  way  into 
it ;  and  as  the  earth  falls  in  daily,  it  will  possibly  be 
soon  stopped  up,  as  it  was  before." 

She  wrote  again  a  fortnight  later  to  her  husband : 
'"  I  did  not  write  to  you  last  post,  hoping  to  have 
been  able  to  have  given  you  an  account  in  this  of 
everything  I  had  observed  at  Portici,  but  I  have  not 
yet  obtained  the  King's  license,  which  must  be  had 
before  I  can  be  admitted  to  see  the  pictures,  and  frag- 
ments of  statues  which  have  been  found  there,  and  has 
been  hitherto  delayed  on  various  pretences,  it  being  at 
present  a  very  singular  favour.  They  say  that  some 
English  carried  a  painter  with  them  the  last  year  to 
copy  the  pictures,  which  renders  it  more  difficult  at 
present  to  get  leave  to  see  them.  I  have  taken  all 
possible  pains  to  get  information  of  this  subterranean 


152  Travels  in  Italy  and  France 

building,  and  am  told  'tis  the  remains  of  the  ancient 
city  of  Hercolana,  and  by  what  I  can  collect,  there  was 
a  theatre  entire,  with  all  the  scenes  and  ancient  decora- 
tions :  they  have  broke  it  to  pieces  by  digging  irre- 
gularly. I  hope  in  a  few  days  to  get  permission  to  go, 
and  will  then  give  yoM  the  exactest  description  I  am 
capable  of." 

The  permission,  however,  was  refused — a  circum- 
stance which  by  no  means  raised  Lady  Mary's  opinion 
of  the  King  of  the  Two  Sicilies. 

''  I  returned  hither  last  night,"  she  wrote  from  Rome, 
in  January,  1741,  "  after  six  weeks'  stay  at  Naples  ; 
great  part  of  that  time  was  vainly  taken  up  in  endea- 
vouring to  satisfy  your  curiosity  and  my  own,  in  rela- 
tion to  the  late-discovered  town  of  Hercolana.  I 
wasted  eight  days,  in  hopes  of  permission  to  see  the 
pictures  and  other  rarities  taken  from  thence,  which  is 
preserved  in  the  King's  palace  at  Portici ;  but  I  found 
it  was  to  no  purpose,  his  majesty  keeping  the  key  in 
his  own  cabinet,  which  he  would  not  part  with,  though 
the  Prince  de  Zathia  (who  is  one  of  his  favourites),  I 
believe,  very  sincerely  tried  his  interest  to  obtain  it  for 
me.  He  is  son  to  the  Spanish  Ambassador  I  knew  at 
Venice,  and  both  he  and  his  lady  loaded  me  with 
civilities  at  Naples.  The  Court  in  general  is  more 
barbarous  than  any  of  the  ancient  Goths.  One  proof 
of  it,  among  many  others,  was  melting  down  a  beautiful 
copper  statue  of  a  vestal  found  in  this  new  ruin,  to 
make  medallions  for  the  late  solemn  christening.  The 
whole  Court  follow  the  Spanish  customs  and  politics. 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  153 

I  could  say  a  good  deal  on  this  subject  if  I  thought  my 
letter  would  come  safe  to  your  hands;  the  apprehen- 
sion it  may  not,  hinders  my  answering  another  inquiry 
you  make,  concerning  a  family  here,  of  which,  indeed,  I 
can  say  little,  avoiding  all  commerce  with  those  that 
frequent  it." 

The  "  family  "  referred  to  was,  of  course,  that  of  the 
Pretender  James,  or  the  Chevalier,  as  he  was  called  by 
those  who  wished  to  be  neutral.  He  was  now  re- 
siding at  Rome  with  his  two  sons,  Charles  Edward  and 
Henry.  As  a  good  Whig,  Lady  Mary  carefully  avoided 
them,  though  she  saw  the  two  young  Stuarts  once  at  a 
ball. 

''  I  never  saw  the  Chevalier  during  my  whole  stay 
at  Rome.  I  saw  his  two  sons*  at  a  public  ball  in 
masque ;  they  were  very  richly  adorned  with  jewels. 
The  eldest  seems  thoughtless  enough,  and  is  really  not 
unlike  Mr.  Lyttelton  in  his  shape  and  air.  The  youngest 
is  very  well  made,  dances  finely,  and  has  an  ingenuous 
countenance  ;  he  is  but  fourteen  years  of  age.  The 
family  live  very  splendidly,  yet  pay  everybody,  and 
(wherever  they  get  it)  are  certainly  in  no  want  of 
money." 

At  Rome  she  spent  the  rest  of  the  winter,  and 
seems  to  have  had  a  sort  of  "  salon  "  for  the  English 
then  at  Rome,  to  keep  them  out  of  the  way  of  mischief, 
moral  or  political.  She  wrote  about  it  long  afterwards 
to  her  daughter.  Lady  Bute. 

*  Charles  Edward,  the  Young  Pretender,  and  Henry,  afterwards 
Cardinal  of  York. 


154  Travels  in  Italy  and  FraJice 

''  The  winter  I  passed  at  Rome  there  was  an  unusual 
concourse  of  Enghsh,  many  of  them  with  great  estates, 
and  their  own  masters  :  as  they  had  no  admittance  to 
the  Roman  ladies,  nor  understood  the  language,  they 
had  no  way  of  passing  their  evenings  but  in  my  apart- 
ment, where  I  had  always  a  full  drawing-room.  Their 
governors  encouraged  their  assiduities  as  much  as  they 
could,  finding  I  gave  them  lessons  of  economy  and  good 
conduct ;  and  my  authority  was  so  great,  it  was  a 
common  threat  amongst  them,  I'll  tell  Lady  Mary  what 
you  say.  I  was  judge  of  all  their  disputes,  and  my 
decisions  always  submitted  to.  While  I  stayed,  there 
was  neither  gaming,  drinking,  quarrelling,  nor  keeping. 
The  Abbe  Grant  (a  very  honest,  good-natured  North 
Briton,  who  has  resided  several  years  at  Rome)  was  so 
amazed  at  this  uncommon  regularity,  he  would  have 
made  me  believe  I  was  bound  in  conscience  to  pass  my 
life  there,  for  the  good  of  my  countrymen.  I  can 
assure  you  my  vanity  was  not  at  all  raised  by  this 
influence  over  them,  knowing  very  well  that  had  Lady 
Charlotte  de  Roussi*  been  in  my  place,  it  would  have 
been  the  same  thing.  There  is  that  general  emulation 
in  mankind,  I  am  fully  persuaded  if  a  dozen  young 
fellows  bred  a  bear  amongst  them,  and  saw  no  other 
creature,  they  would  every  day  fall  out  for  the  bear's 
favours,  and  be  extremely  flattered  by  any  mark  of 
distinction  show^n  by  that  ugly  animal." 

But  this  stay  at  Rome  can  have  lasted  only  some  five 

*  A  French  Protestant  lady,  governess  to  George  II.'s  children, 
and  apparently  rather  a  dull  person. 


Travels  in  Italy  and  F7'ance  155 

or  six  weeks  ;  for  at  the  end  of  F'ebruary,  1741,  Lady 
Mary  had  gone  to  Leghorn  to  meet  her  baggage,  which 
had  come  by  sea  from  England.  From  here,  after 
some  uncertainty,  she  went  to  Genoa  and  Turin.  The 
change  in  Itahan  manners  since  she  had  passed  through 
Genoa  with  her  husband  in  1718,  much  impressed  her, 
as  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu. 

''  The  manners  of  Italy  are  so  much  altered  since  we 
were  here  last,  the  alteration  is  scarce  credible.  They 
say  it  has  been  by  the  last  war.  The  French,  being 
masters,  introduced  all  their  customs,  which  were 
eagerly  embraced  by  the  ladies,  and  I  believe  will 
never  be  laid  aside ;  yet  the  different  governments 
make  different  manners  in  every  state.  You  know, 
though  the  republic  is  not  rich,  here  are  many  private 
families  vastly  so,  and  live  at  a  great  superfluous  ex- 
pense :  all  the  people  of  the  first  quality  keep  coaches 
as  fine  as  the  Speaker's,  and  some  of  them  two  or  three, 
though  the  streets  are  too  narrow  to  use  them  in  the 
town  ;  but  they  take  the  air  in  them,  and  their  chairs 
carry  them  to  the  gates.  The  liveries  are  all  plain  : 
gold  or  silver  being  forbidden  to  be  worn  within  the 
walls,  the  habits  are  all  obliged  to  be  black,  but  they 
wear  exceeding  fine  lace  and  linen  ;  and  in  their  country- 
houses,  which  are  generally  in  the  faubourg,  they  dress 
very  rich,  and  have  extreme  fine  jewels.  Here  is  nothing 
cheap  but  houses.  A  palace  fit  for  a  prince  may  be 
hired  for  fifty  pounds  per  annum  :  I  mean  unfurnished. 
All  games  of  chance  are  strictly  prohibited,  and  it  seems 
to  me  the  only  law  they  do  not  try  to  evade  :  they  play  at 


156  Travels  in  Italy  and  Fraiue 

quadrille,  piquet,  etc.,  but  not  high.  Here  are  no  regular 
public  assemblies.  I  have  been  visited  by  all  of  the 
first  rank,  and  invited  to  several  fine  dinners,  particu- 
larly to  the  wedding  of  one  of  the  house  of  Spinola, 
where  there  were  ninety-six  sat  down  to  table,  and 
I  think  the  entertainment  one  of  the  finest  I  ever  saw. 
There  was  the  night  following  a  ball  and  supper  for  the 
same  company,  with  the  same  profusion.  They  tell  me 
that  all  their  great  marriages  are  kept  in  the  same 
public  manner.  Nobody  keeps  more  than  two  horses, 
all  their  journeys  being  post ;  the  expense  of  them,  in- 
cluding the  coachman,  is  (I  am  told)  fifty  pounds  per 
annum.  A  chair  is  very  near  as  much  ;  I  give  eighteen 
francs  a  week  for  mine.  The  senators  can  converse 
with  no  strangers  during  the  time  of  their  magistracy, 
which  lasts  two  years.  The  number  of  servants  is 
regulated,  and  almost  every  lady  has  the  same,  which 
is  two  footmen,  a  gentleman-usher,  and  a  page,  who 
follows  her  chair." 

From  Turin  Lady  Mary  had  an  opportunity  of 
sending  by  a  friend  to  her  husband,  and  hence 
ventured  to  touch  on  the  politics  of  the  time. 
England  was  now  engaged  in  a  war  with  Spain 
over  commercial  and  colonial  disputes;  and  France 
was  expected  to  join  with  Spain  in  virtue  of  the 
Bourbon  Family  Compact  of  1733.  The  Queen  of 
Spain,  Elizabeth  Farnese,  second  wife  of  Philip  V,, 
having  placed  her  eldest  son  Charles  on  the  throne  of 
Naples,  was  about  to  take  advantage  of  the  disputed 
state  of  the  Austrian  succession  to  seize  Milan  for  her 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  157 

second  son  Philip.  Lady  Mary  seems  to  suggest  that 
by  threatening  to  excite  a  revolt  in  Naples,  which  the 
Spaniards  had  only  held  since  1735,  the  English 
Government  could  bring  Spain  to  terms — forgetting, 
apparently,  that  Naples  was  nominally  at  peace  with 
England.  This  means  was  afterwards  employed  to 
prevent  the  Neapolitan  army  from  joining  the 
Spaniards. 

"  The  English  politics  are  the  general  jest  of  all  the 
nations  I  have  passed  through  ;  and  even  those  who 
profit  by  our  follies  cannot  help  laughing  at  our 
notorious  blunders  ;  though  they  are  all  persuaded  that 
the  Minister*  does  not  act  from  weakness  but  corrup- 
tion, and  that  the  Spanish  gold  influences  his  measures. 
I  had  a  long  discourse  with  Count  Mahony  on  this 
subject,  who  said,  very  freely,  that  half  the  ships  sent 
to  the  coast  of  Naples,  that  have  lain  idle  in  our  ports 
last  summer,  would  have  frightened  the  Queen  of  Spain 
into  a  submission  to  whatever  terms  we  thought  proper 
to  impose.  The  people,  who  are  loaded  with  taxes,  hate 
the  Spanish  Government,  of  which  I  had  daily  proofs, 
hearing  them  curse  the  English  for  bringing  their  King 
to  them,-|-  whenever  they  saw  any  of  our  nation  :  but  I 
am  not  much  surprised  at  the  ignorance  of  our 
Ministers,  after  seeing  what  creatures  they  employ  to 
send  them  intelHgence.     Except   Mr.   Villette,  at  this 

*  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  then  near  his  fall  from  power. 

t  The  English  had  not  brought  Charles  to  Naples,  but  had 
brought  him  to  Tuscany,  in  consequence  of  the  Treaty  of  Seville, 
1729  ;  and  this  establishment  of  the  Spaniards  in  Italy  helped 
them  to  conquer  Naples  later  on. 


158  Travels  in  Italy  and  Frame 

Court,*  there  is  not  one  that  has  common  sense  :  I  say 
this  without  prejudice,  all  of  them  having  been  as  civil 
and  serviceable  to  me  as  they  could." 

Sardinia  was  making  preparations  for  the  impending 
struggle  for  Milan.  Her  position  holding  the  Alps, 
between  France  and  the  Austrian  possession  of  Milan, 
made  her  courted  by  both  sides. 

From  Turin  Lady  Mary  went  on  to  Geneva,  where 
the  people  were  more  to  her  taste  than  the  prices.  In 
spite  of  the  Republican  simplicity,  living  was  as  dear 
as  in  London,  all  provisions  being  brought  in  from  out- 
side. This  and  the  *'  sharpness  of  the  air  "  soon  drove 
her  to  Chambery,  in  Savoy,  where  everything  was  as 
cheap  as  it  was  dear  at  Geneva. 

''  Here  is  the  most  profound  peace  and  unbounded 
plenty  that  is  to  be  found  in  any  corner  of  the  universe; 
but  not  one  rag  of  money.  For  my  part,  I  think  it 
amounts  to  the  same  thing,  whether  one  is  obliged  to 
give  several  pence  for  bread,  or  can  have  a  g^reat  deal 
of  bread  for  a  penny,  since  the  Savoyard  nobility  here 
keep  as  good  tables,  without  money,  as  those  in  London, 
who  spend  in  a  week  what  would  be  here  a  considerable 
yearly  revenue.  Wine,  which  is  equal  to  the  best  Bur- 
gundy, is  sold  for  a  penny  a  quart,  and  I  have  a  cook 
for  very  small  wages,  that  is  capable  of  rivalling  Chloe.t 
Here  are  no  equipages  but  chairs,  the  hire  of  which  is 

*  Mr.  Villette  was  English  Minister  at  the  Sardinian  Court. 
He  was  afterwards  of  great  service  in  keeping  Sardinia  on  the 
Austrian  side. 

t  Monsieur  Chlo^  was  a  celebrated  French  cook  in  the  service 
of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle. 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  159 

about  a  crown  a  week,  and  all  other  matters  propor- 
tionable. I  can  assure  you  I  make  the  figure  of  the 
Duchess  of  Marlborough,  by  carrying  gold  in  my  purse; 
there  being  no  visible  coin  but  copper.  Yet  we  are  all 
people  that  can  produce  pedigrees  to  serve  for  the  Order 
of  Malta.  Many  of  us  have  travelled,  and  'tis  the 
fashion  to  love  reading.  We  eat  together  perpetually, 
and  have  assemblies  every  night  for  conversation.  To 
say  truth,  the  houses  are  all  built  after  the  manner  of  the 
old  English  towns ;  nobody  having  had  money  to  build 
for  two  hundred  years  past.  Consequently  the  walls 
are  thick,  the  roofs  low,  etc.,  the  streets  narrow,  and 
miserably  paved." 

At  Chamb^ry  Lady  Mary  spent  the  winter ;  but  in 
the  spring  of  1742,  fearing  the  outbreak  of  war  and  a 
French  invasion  of  Savoy,  she  moved  to  Lyons.  Here 
she  received  a  letter  from  her  husband,  asking  her  to 
arrange  an  interview  with  their  son,  Edward  Wortley 
Montagu,  who  had  been  rusticating  in  Holland  and  had 
come  back  to  England  for  three  months.  He  (it 
seems)  was  very  anxious  to  get  free  from  his  Fleet 
wife,  making  and  breaking  countless  promises  of  re- 
formation, and  wanting  to  go  into  the  army.  To  this 
interview  Lady  Mary  consented,  and  arranged  for  her 
son,  under  an  assumed  name,  to  meet  her  at  Valence. 
She  writes  to  her  husband : 

*'  On  recollection  (however  inconvenient  it  may  be 
to  me  on  many  accounts),  I  am  not  sorry  to  converse 
with  my  son.  I  shall  at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of 
making  a  clear  judgment  of  his  behaviour  and  temper, 


i6o  Travels  m  Italy  and  France 

which  I  shall  deliver  to  you  in  the  most  sincere  and  un- 
prejudiced manner.  You  need  not  apprehend  that  I 
shall  speak  to  him  in  passion.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
ever  did  in  my  life.  I  am  not  apt  to  be  over-heated  in 
discourse,  and  am  so  far  prepared,  even  for  the  worst 
on  his  side,  that  I  think  nothing  he  can  say  can  alter  the 
resolution  I  have  taken  of  treating  him  with  calmness. 
Both  nature  and  interest  (were  I  inclined  to  follow 
blindly  the  dictates  of  either)  would  determine  me  to 
wish  him  your  heir  rather  than  a  stranger ;  but  I  think 
myself  obliged  both  by  honour,  conscience,  and  my 
regard  for  you,  no  way  to  deceive  you  ;  and  I  confess, 
hitherto  I  see  nothing  but  falsehood  and  weakness 
through  his  whole  conduct."* 

Before  arranging  the  meeting,  however,  Lady  Mary, 
desirous  of  avoiding  any  possible  theatre  of  w^ar,  and 
unwilling  to  remain  in  France  when  a  war  with  Eng- 
land was  imminent,  established  herself  in  Avignon,  then, 
and  until  the  Revolution,  a  papal  possession,  though 
surrounded  by  French  territory.  She  wrote  to  the 
Countess  of  Pomfret  on  arriving  there  : 

"  I  have  changed  my  situation,  fearing  to  find  myself 
blocked  up  in  a  besieged  town  ;  and  not  knowing  where 
else  to  avoid  the  terrors  of  war,  I  have  put  myself  under 
the  protection  of  the  Holy  See.  Your  ladyship  being 
well  acquainted  with  this  place,  I  need  not  send  you  a 
description  of  it ;  but  I  think  you  did  not  stay  in  it  long 
enough  to  know  many  of  the  people.  I  find  them  very 
polite  and  obliging  to  strangers.  We  have  assemblies 
every  night, ^which  conclude  with  a  great  supper ;  and 


Travels  m  Italy  aiid  France  i6i 

comedies  which  are  tolerably  well  acted.  In  short,  I 
think  one  may  while  away  an  idle  life  with  great  tran- 
quillity ;  which  has  long  since  been  the  utmost  of  my 
ambition." 

From  Avignon  Lady  Mary  went  to  Orange,  where 
she  had  directed  her  son  to  meet  her.  Mr.  Wortley 
Montagu  had  heard  a  rumour  that  his  son  had  been 
"  made  an  enthusiast  in  Holland,"  the  eighteenth- 
century  equivalent  of  joining  the  Salvation  Army 
to-day.  Lady  Mary's  account  was  reassuring  on  that 
topic,  if  on  no  other  : 

**  I  am  just  returned  from  passing  two  days  with  our 
son,  of  whom  I  will  give  you  the  most  exact  account  I 
am  capable  of.  He  is  so  much  altered  in  his  person,  I 
should  scarcely  have  known  him.  He  has  entirely  lost 
his  beauty,  and  looks  at  least  seven  years  older  than  he 
is ;  and  the  wildness  that  he  always  had  in  his  eyes  is 
so  much  increased  it  is  downright  shocking,  and  I  am 
afraid  will  end  fatally.  He  is  grown  fat,  but  is  still 
genteel,  and  has  an  air  of  politeness  that  is  agreeable. 
He  speaks  French  like  a  Frenchman,  and  has  got  all 
the  fashionable  expressions  of  that  language,  and  a 
volubility  of  words  which  he  always  had,  and  which 
I  do  not  wonder  should  pass  for  wit  with  inconsiderate 
people.  His  behaviour  is  perfectly  civil,  and  I  found 
him  very  submissive ;  but  in  the  main,  no  way  really 
improved  in  his  understanding,  which  is  exceedingly 
weak  ;  and  I  am  convinced  he  will  always  be  led  by  the 
person  he  converses  with  either  right  or  wrong,  not 
being  capable  of  forming  any  fixed   judgment   of   his 

II 


i62  Travels  in  Italy  and  France 

own.  As  to  his  enthusiasm,  if  he  had  it,  I  suppose 
he  has  already  lost  it ;  since  I  could  perceive  no  turn 
of  it  in  all  his  conversation.  But  with  his  head  I 
believe  it  is  possible  to  make  him  a  monk  one  day  and 
a  Turk*  three  days  after.  He  has  a  flattering,  insinu- 
ating manner,  which  naturally  prejudices  strangers  in 
his  favour.  He  began  to  talk  to  me  in  the  usual 
silly  cant  I  have  so  often  heard  from  him,  which  I 
shortened  by  telling  him  I  desired  not  to  be  troubled 
with  it ;  that  professions  were  of  no  use  where  actions 
were  expected  ;  and  that  the  only  thing  could  give 
me  hopes  of  a  good  conduct  was  regularity  and  truth." 

The  topic  of  their  son  often  turns  up  in  the  letters 
between  Lady  Mary  and  her  husband  ;  but  no  satis- 
factory or  lasting  reformation  was  to  be  looked  for  from 
him.  From  these  and  occasional  allusions  in  Horace 
Walpole's  letters  we  get  glimpses  of  him,  flitting 
between  London  and  Paris,  blazing  out  in  splendid 
dresses  on  a  scanty  allowance,  put  in  prison  at  Paris 
over  a  discreditable  gambling  quarrel  with  a  Jew  of 
several  names,  running  away  with  ''the  famous  Miss 
Ashe,"  and  adding  her  "to  the  number  of  his  wives." 
Perhaps  the  idea  that  he  was  hardly  sane  is  the  truest 
as  well  as  most  charitable  way  of  accounting  for  his 
adventures.  His  mother  was  glad  to  turn  from  his 
affairs  to  more  grateful  topics. 

**  You  may,  perhaps,  hear  of  a  trifle  which  makes  a 

great  noise  in  this  part  of  the  world,  which  is,  that  I 

*  It  was  believed  that  he  did  turn  Mohammedan  after  the  death 
of  his  parents. 


(bdoc^au/  TraM^yu^  c  ii/nitaa/iiy .^^ 


moh' 


V-^  OF    THE  '^ 

UNIVERSITY 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  i6 


v) 


am  building ;  but  the  whole  expense  which  I  have  con- 
tracted for  is  but  twenty-six  pounds  sterling.  You  know 
the  situation  of  this  town  is  on  the  meeting  of  the  Rhone 
and  Durance.  On  one  side  of  it,  within  the  walls,  wa^ 
formerly  a  fortress  built  on  a  very  high  rock ;  they  say 
it  was  destroyed  by  lightning :  one  of  the  towers  was 
left  part  standing,  the  walls  being  a  yard  in  thickness : 
this  was  made  use  of  some  time  for  a  public  mill,  but 
the  height  making  it  inconvenient  for  the  carriage  of 
meal,  it  has  stood  useless  many  years.  Last  summer, 
in  the  hot  evenings,  I  walked  often  thither,  where  I 
always  found  a  fresh  breeze,  and  the  most  beautiful 
land-prospect  I  ever  saw  (except  Wharncliffe*) ;  being 
a  view  of  the  windings  of  two  great  rivers,  and  over- 
looking the  whole  country,  with  part  of  Languedoc  and 
Provence.  I  was  so  much  charmed  with  it,  that  I  said 
in  company,  that,  if  that  old  mill  was  mine,  I  would 
turn  it  into  a  belvidere ;  my  words  were  repeated,  and 
the  two  consuls  waited  on  me  soon  after,  with  a  dona- 
tion from  the  town  of  the  mill  and  the  land  about  it  : 
I  have  added  a  dome  to  it,  and  made  it  a  little  rotunda 
for  the  'foresaid  sum.  I  have  also  amused  myself  with 
patching  up  an  inscription,  which  I  have  communicated 
to  the  Archbishop,  who  is  much  delighted  with  it ;  but 
it  is  not  placed,  and  perhaps  never  shall  be." 

The  inscription  in  question  was  an  adaptation  of 
Cowley's  ''  Epitaphium  Vivi  Auctoris,"  the  gender 
being  changed  to  feminine  to  suit  Lady  Mary.  As 
this  change  spoilt  the  scansion  of  some  of  the  lines, 

*  Wharnclifte  was  the  country  seat  of  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu. 

II — 2 


164  Travels  in  Italy  ami  France 

Mr.  Wortley  Montagu  was  less  delighted  with  the  piece 
than  the  Archbishop  ;  and  his  wife  probably  gave  up  the 
idea  of  placing  it  on  her  *'  belvidere."  She  gave  her 
husband  many  particulars  of  the  town  and  neighbour- 
hood of  Avignon  ;  and  having  to  send  a  man-serv^ant 
back  to  England,  she  took  the  opportunity  of  writing  a 
piece  of  information  about  the  descent  which  the  French 
vsrere  then  planning  on  England  in  the  interests  of  the 
Pretender — war  having  been  declared  in  March,  1744, 
after  fighting  had  been  going  on  for  some  time. 

"  I  take  this  opportunity  of  informing  you  in  wha^ 
manner  I  came  acquainted  with  the  secret  I  hinted 
at  in  my  letter  of  the  5th  of  February.  The  society 
of  Freemasons  at  Nismes  presented  the  Duke  of 
Richelieu,*  Governor  of  Languedoc,  w^ith  a  magnificent 
entertainment  ;  it  is  but  one  day's  post  from  hence, 
and  the  Duchess  of  Crillon,  with  some  other  ladies  of 
this  town,  resolved  to  be  at  it,  and  alm.ost  by  force 
carried  me  with  them,  which  I  am  tempted  to  believe 
an  act  of  Providence,  considering  my  great  reluctance, 
and  the  service  it  proved  to  be  to  unhappy  innocent 
people.  The  greatest  part  of  the  town  of  Nismes  are 
secret  Protestants,  which  are  still  severely  punished 
according  to  the  edicts  of  Lewis  XIV.  whenever  they 
are  detected  in  any  public  worship.  A  few  days  before 
we  came,  they  had  assembled  ;  their  minister  and  about 
a  dozen  of  his  congregation  were  seized  and  imprisoned. 

*  Well  known  for  his  dissipations,  and  afterwards  better  known 
by  his  capture  C)f  Minorca  in  1756,  and  his  making  the  Convention 
of  Kloster  Zeven  in  1757. 


Travels  m  Italy  and  France  [65 

I  knew  nothing  of  this  ;  but  I  had  not  been  in  the  town 
two  hours,  when  I  was  visited  by  two  of  the  most 
considerable  of  the  Huguenots,  who  came  to  beg  of  me, 
with  tears,  to  speak  in  their  favour  to  the  Duke  of 
RicheHeu,  saying  none  of  the  Cathohcs  would  do  it, 
and  the  Protestants  durst  not,  and  that  God  had  sent 
me  for  their  protection.  The  Duke  of  Richelieu  was 
too  well-bred  to  refuse  to  listen  to  a  lady,  and  I  was  of 
a  rank  and  nation  to  have  liberty  to  say  what  I  pleased  ; 
they  moved  my  compassion  so  much,  I  resolved  to  use 
my  endeavours  to  serve  them,  though  I  had  little  hope 
of  succeeding.  I  would  not  therefore  dress  myself  for 
the  supper,  but  went  in  a  domino  to  the  ball,  a  masque 
giving  opportunity  of  talking  in  a  freer  manner  than  I 
could  have  done  without  it.  I  was  at  no  trouble  in 
engaging  his  conversation  :  the  ladies  having  told  him 
I  was  there,  he  immediately  advanced  towards  me  ; 
and  I  found,  from  a  different  motive,  he  had  a  great 
desire  to  be  acquainted  with  me,  having  heard  a  great 
deal  of  me.  After  abundance  of  compliments  of  that 
sort,  I  made  my  request  for  the  liberty  of  the  poor 
Protestants ;  he  with  great  freedom  told  me  he  was  so 
little  a  bigot,  he  pitied  them  as  much  as  I  did,  but  his 
orders  from  Court  were  to  send  them  to  the  galleys. 
However,  to  show  how  much  he  desired  my  good 
opinion,  he  was  returning,  and  would  solicit  their 
freedom  (which  he  has  since  obtained).  This  obligation 
occasioned  me  to  continue  the  conversation,  and  he 
asked  me  what  party  the  Pretender  had  in  England  ; 
I  answered,  as  I  thought,  a  very  small  one.     '  We  are 


1 66  Travels  in  Italy  and  France 

told  otherwise  at  Paris,'  said  he ;  *  however,  a  bustle  at 
this  time  may  serve  to  facilitate  our  other  projects, 
and  we  intend  to  attempt  a  descent  ;  *  at  least  it  will 
cause  the  troops  to  be  recalled,  and  perhaps  Admiral 
Mathews  will  be  obliged  to  leave  the  passage  open  for 
Don  Philip. 't  You  may  imagine  how  much  I  wished 
to  give  you  immediate  notice  of  this  ;  but  as  all  letters 
are  opened  at  Paris,  it  would  have  been  to  no  purpose 
to  write  it  by  the  post,  and  have  only  gained  me  a 
powerful  enemy  in  the  Court  of  France, ij!  he  being  so 
much  a  favourite  of  the  King's,  he  is  supposed  to  stand 
candidate  for  the  Ministry.  In  my  letter  to  Sir 
R[obert]  W  [alpole]  from  Venice,  I  offered  my  service, 
and  desired  to  know  in  what  manner  I  could  send 
intelligence,  if  anything  happened  to  my  knowledge 
that  could  be  of  use  to  England.  I  believe  he  imagined 
that  I  wanted  some  gratification,  and  only  sent  me 
cold  thanks." 

The  relics  of  Roman  municipal  life  here  and  in  other 
towns  of  the  South  of  France  must  have  interested  Mr. 
Wortley  Montagu,  who  retained  his  taste  for  classical 
antiquities. 

*'  This  town  is  considerably  larger  than  either  Aix 
or  Montpelier,  and  has  more  inhabitants  of  quality  than 

*  Marshal  Saxe  was  to  command  the  army,  and  the  transports 
were  gathered  at  Dunkirk,  but  were  shattered  by  a  storm.  The 
Young  Pretender's  enterprise  next  year  was  made  almost  without 
French  aid. 

t  Admiral  Mathews  commanded  the  English  fleet  in  the 
Mediterranean,  and  was  occupied  in  preventing  the  Spanish  forces 
from  coming  over  by  sea  to  Italy. 

%  The  Due  de  Richelieu. 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  167 

of  any  other  sort,  having  no  trade,  from  the  exactions 
of  the  French,  though  better  situated  for  it  than  any 
inland  town  I  know.  What  is  most  singular  is  the 
government,  which  retains  a  sort  of  imitation  of  the 
old  Roman  :  here  are  two  consuls  chosen  every  year, 
the  first  of  whom  from  the  chief  noblesse ;  and  there 
is  as  much  struggling  for  that  dignity  in  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  as  in  the  Senate.  The  vice-legate  cannot  violate 
their  privileges,  but  as  all  governors  naturally  wish  to 
increase  their  authority,  there  are  perpetual  factions  of 
the  same  kind  as  those  between  prerogative  and  liberty 
of  the  subject.  We  have  a  new  Vice-legate,  arrived  a 
few  days  since,  nephew  to  Cardinal  Acquaviva,  young, 
rich,  and  handsome,  and  sets  out  in  a  greater  figure 
than  has  ever  been  known  here.  The  magistrate  next 
to  him  in  place  is  called  the  Viguier,*  who  is  chosen 
every  year  by  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  represents  the 
person  of  the  Pope  in  all  criminal  causes,  but  his 
authority  [is]  so  often  clipped  by  the  vice-legates,  there 
remains  nothing  of  it  at  present  but  the  honour  of 
precedence,  during  his  office,  and  a  box  at  the  play- 
house gratis,  with  the  surintendance  of  all  public  diver- 
sions. When  Don  Philip  passed  here,  he  began  the 
ball  with  his  lad}^  which  is  the  custom  of  all  the  princes 
that  pass. 

''  The  beginning  of  Avignon  was  probably  a  colony 

from  Marseilles,  there  having  been  a  temple  of  Diana 

on  that  very  spot  where  I  have  my  little  pavilion.     If 

there  was  any  painter  capable  of  drawing  it,  I   would 

*  Viguier  is  derived  from  vicariiis^  a  vicar  or  deputy. 


1 68  Ti^avels  in  Italy  and  France 

send  you  a  view  of  the  landscape,  which  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  I  ever  saw." 

At  Avignon  Lady  Mary  stayed  altogether  over  four 
years,  but  her  correspondence  during  that  time  is  rather 
scanty.  As  all  letters  had  to  pass  through  France,  and 
war  was  going  on  between  England  and  France  during 
most  of  the  time — though  not  formally  declared  till 
1744 — we  may  imagine  that  she  wrote  but  few  letters, 
and  that  not  many  of  these  arrived  at  their  destination. 
Some  English  gossip  she  gathered  from  her  friend,  the 
Countess  of  Oxford.  She  heard  of  the  death  of  her  old 
friend  and  enemy,  Pope,  in  1744,  and  was  curious  to 
know  what  had  become  of  his  house  at  Twickenham ; 
no  animosity,  however,  is  betrayed  in  the  reference  to 
him.  Nor  was  much  emotion  aroused  by  hearing  of 
the  destruction  of  the  house  where  much  of  her  girlhood 
had  been  spent — Thoresby,  which  was  burnt  down  in 
April,  1745. 

The  French  victories  in  the  Netherlands — notably 
the  battle  of  Fontenoy — made  Avignon  a  less  pleasant 
place  of  sojourn.  *' I  pass  my  time  very  disagreeably 
at  present  among  the  French,"  Lady  Mary  writes  ; 
**  their  late  successes  have  given  them  an  air  of 
triumph  that  is  very  difficult  for  an  English  heart  to 
suffer  ;  I  think  less  of  politics  than  most  people,  yet 
cannot  be  entirely  insensible  of  the  misfortunes  of  my 
country." 

She  had  long  been  desirous  of  leaving  Avignon  ;  but 
Italy  was  disturbed  by  the  war  between  Austrians  and 
Sardinians  on  one  side,  and  French  and  Spaniards  on 
the  other,  and  in  1745  the  latter  had  been  completely 


Travels  in  Italy  and  France  169 

successful.  Thus  it  was  dangerous  to  travel  to  Italy, 
and  France  would  be  even  worse  than  Avignon, 
especially  as  the  French  droit  d/aiihaine  gave  to  the 
King  the  goods  of  foreigners  dying  in  his  dominions, 
a  circumstance  which  will  explain  the  meaning,  though 
not  the  grammar,  of  the  following  extract : 

"  I  am  very  impatient  to  leave  this  town,  which  has 
been  highly  disagreeable  to  me  ever  since  the  begin- 
ning of  this  war,  but  the  impossibility  of  returning  into 
Italy,  and  the  law  in  France  which  gives  to  the  King 
all  the  effects  any  person  deceased  dies  possessed  of, 
and  I  own  that  I  am  very  desirous  my  jewels  and  some 
little  necessary  plate  that  I  have  bought,  should  be 
safely  delivered  into  your  hands,  hoping  you  will  be  so 
good  to  dispose  of  them  to  my  daughter.  The  Duke 
of  Richelieu  flattered  me  for  some  time  that  he  would 
obtain  for  me  a  permission  to  dispose  of  my  goods,  but 
he  has  not  3^et  done  it,  and  you  know  the  uncertainty 
of  Court  promises." 

Avignon  became  still  more  intolerable  when  in  1746 
the  failure  of  the  Jacobite  insurrection  brought  a  swarm 
of  Jacobite  refugees  into  the  city.  Lady  Mary,  who 
was  notoriously  Whig  in  views,  and  who  was  constantly 
endeavouring  to  send  letters  to  her  friends  in  England, 
probably  got  the  reputation  of  a  spy.  She  resolved  to 
take  the  first  possible  opportunity  of  escape,  and  the 
following  letter  to  her  husband  gives  a  graphic  account 
of  her  perilous  journey : 

"Brescia,  Aug.  23,  N.S.  [1746]. 

"■  You  will  be  surprised  at  the  date  of  this  letter,  but 
Avignon   has  been  long  disagreeable  to   me  on  many 


170  Travels  in  Italy  and  Finance 

accounts,  and  now  more  than  ever,  from  the  concourse 
of  Scotch  and  Irish  rebels  that  choose  it  for  their 
refuge,  and  are  so  highly  protected  by  the  Vice-legate, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  go  into  any  company  without 
hearing  a  conversation  that  is  improper  to  be  listened 
to,  and  dangerous  to  contradict.  The  war  with  France 
hindered  my  settling  there  for  reasons  I  have  already 
told  you  ;  and  the  difficulty  of  passing  into  Italy  con- 
fined me,  though  I  was  always  watching  an  oppor- 
tunity of  returning  thither.  Fortune  at  length  presented 
me  one. 

"  I  believe  I  wrote  you  word,  when  I  was  at  Venice, 
that  I  saw  there  the  Count  of  Wackerbarth,  who  was 
Governor  to  the  Prince  of  Saxony,  and  is  favourite  of 
the  King  of  Poland,  and  the  many  civilities  I  received 
from  him,  as  an  old  friend  of  his  mother's.  About  a 
month  since  came  to  Avignon  a  gentleman  of  the  bed- 
chamber of  the  Prince,  who  is  a  man  of  the  first  quality 
in  this  province,*  I  believe  charged  with  some  private 
commission  from  the  Polish  Court.  He  brought  me 
a  letter  of  recommendation  from  Count  Wackerbarth, 
which  engaged  me  to  show  him  what  civilities  lay  in 
my  power.  In  conversation  I  lamented  to  him  the 
impossibility  of  my  attempting  a  journey  to  Italy, 
where  he  was  going.  He  offered  me  his  protection, 
and  represented  to  me  that  if  I  would  permit  him  to 
wait  on  me,  I  might  pass  under  the  notion  of  a  Venetian 
lady.  In  short,  I  ventured  upon  it,  which  has  suc- 
ceeded very  well,  though  I  met  with  more  impediments 

*  Evidently  the  Count  Palazzo  referred  to  below. 


Travels  iJi  Italy  a  Jul  France  i  7 1 

in  my  journey  than  I  expected.     We  went  by  sea  to 
Genoa,   where   I   made    a    very    short    stay,    and    saw 
nobody,  having  no  passport  from  that  State,  and  fear- 
ing to  be  stopped,  if  I  was  known.^'     We  took  post- 
chaises  from  thence  the  i6th  of  this  month,  and  were 
very    much    surprised    to    meet,   on    the    Briletta,    or 
Pochetta,  the  baggage  of  the  Spanish  army,f  with  a 
prodigious  number  of  sick  and  wounded  soldiers  and 
officers,   who    marched    in    a   very  great    hurry.     The 
Count  of  Palazzo  ordered  his  servants  to  say  we  were 
in   haste  for  the  service  of  Don   Philip,  and  without ' 
further  examination  they  gave  us  place   everywhere ; 
notwithstanding  which,  the  multitude  of  carriages  and 
loaded   mules  which  we  met   in  these  narrow  roads, 
made  it  impossible  for  us  to  reach  ScravalliJ  till  it  was 
near  night.     Our  surprise  was  great  to  find,  coming 
out  of  that  town,  a  large  body  of  troops  surrounding 
a  body  of  guards,  in  the  midst  of  which  was   Don 
Philip   in   person,    going   a   very   round   trot,   looking 
down,  and  pale  as  ashes.     The  army  was  in  too  much 
confusion  to  take  notice  of  us,  and  the  night  favouring 

*■•  The  Republic  of  Genoa  was  in  alliance  with  France  and 
Spain.     The  city  soon  after  surrendered  to  the  Austrians. 

t-  Lady  Mary  means  the  Bocchetta,  or  pass  leading  through 
the  mountains  to  Genoa.  The  French  and  Spaniards  had  been 
defeated  at  Piacenza,  June  16,  1746,  by  the  Austrians  and  Sar- 
dinians, and  since  then  had  been  gradually  driven  from  all  their 
positions  in  Italy.  The  French  had  retreated  over  the  Alps,  and 
the  Spaniards  were  being  driven  through  Genoa. 

X  Serravalle  is  the  name  of  the  town,  and  a  mistake  has  been 
made  either  by  Lady  Mary  or  the  printers  of  her  letters,  perhaps 
both. 


172  Travels  in  Italy  and  France 

us,  we  got  into  the  town,  but,  when  we  came  there,  it 
was  impossible  to  find  any  lodging,  all  the  inns  being 
filled  with  wounded  Spaniards.  The  Count  went  to 
the  Governor,  and  asked  a  chamber  for  a  Venetian 
lady,  which  he  granted  very  readily ;  but  there  was 
nothing  in  it  but  the  bare  walls,  and  in  less  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  after  the  whole  house  was  empty 
both  of  furniture  and  people,  the  Governor  flying  into 
the  citadel,  and  carrying  with  him  all  his  goods  and 
family.  We  were  forced  to  pass  the  night  without 
beds  or  supper.  About  daybreak  the  victorious 
Germans  entered  the  town.  The  Count  went  to  wait 
on  the  generals,  to  whom,  I  believe,  he  had  a  com- 
mission. He  told  them  my  name,  and  there  was  no 
sort  of  honour  or  civility  they  did  not  pay  me.  They 
immediately  ordered  me  a  guard  of  hussars  (which 
was  very  necessary  in  the  present  disorder),  and  sent 
me  refreshments  of  all  kinds.  Next  day  I  was  visited 
by  the  Prince  of  Badin  Dourlach,  the  Prince  Loiies- 
tein,*  and  all  the  principal  officers,  with  whom  I 
passed  for  a  heroine,  showing  no  uneasiness,  though 
the  cannon  of  the  citadel  (where  was  a  Spanish 
garrison)  played  very  briskly.  I  was  forced  to  stay 
there  two  days  for  want  of  post-horses,  the  postmaster 
being  fled,  with  all  his  servants,  and  the  Spaniards 
having  seized  all  the  horses  they  could  find.  At  length 
I  set  out  from  thence  the  igth  instant,  with  a  strong 
escort  of  hussars,  meeting  with  no  further  accident  on 

*  Baden  Durlach  and  Lowestein  are  meant,  unless  the  last  is  a 
mistake  for  Prince  Lichtenstein,  the  Austrian  Commander-in-chief. 


Travels  in  Italy  and  F^^ance  173 

the  road,  except  at  the  little  town  of  Vogherra,  where 
they  refused  post-horses,  till  the  hussars  drew  their 
sabres.  The  20th  I  arrived  safe  here.  It  is  a  very 
pretty  place,  where  I  intend  to  repose  myself  at  least 
during  the  remainder  of  the  summer.  This  journey 
has  been  very  expensive ;  but  I  am  very  glad  I  have 
made  it.  I  am  now  in  a  neutral  country,  under  the 
protection  of  Venice.  The  Doge  is  our  old  friend 
Grimani,  and  I  do  not  doubt  meeting  with  all  sort 
of  civility." 

Thus  happily  was  Lady  Mary  arrived  in  one  of  the 
few  neutral  countries  of  the  time ;  and  in  the  hos- 
pitable land  of  the  Venetian  republic  she  was  to 
remain  for  fifteen  years. 


I  74  Residence  at  Lovei'e 


CHAPTER  VI 

RESIDENCE    AT    LOVERE 

Lady  Mary's  Illness  at  Brescia — Detention  by  the  Palazzo  Family — 
Removal  to  Lovere— Description  of  the  Place — The  Opera- 
Whist  with  Priests— An  Unexpected  Visitor — Masquerade  in 
Carnival — Young  Edward  Wortley  Montagu  and  Lord  Sand- 
wich— Lord  Bute's  Private  Theatricals — Young's  "  Revenge  " — 
A  Theatre  at  Lovere — Dairy-house  and  Garden  — Lady  Mary's 
Mode  of  Life— Improvements  in  the  Garden — The  Duchess  of 
Guastalla — Gotolengo — New  Way  of  treating  Physicians — 
Quackery  in  England  —  Gambling  in  England  and  Italy  — 
Noble  Families  of  Lo\  ere — A  Domestic  Affair  —  Discretion 
of  Italian  Servants  —  Murder  Common  —  A  Visit  to  Salo — 
Beautiful  Gardens — Lovere  Fashionable — A  Statue  proposed 
in  her  Honour  —  Her  Services  to  the  Inhabitants  —  The  Old 
Woman  of  Lovere — Wrong  Ideas  of  Italy  —  Travellers'  Mis- 
takes— Curious  Customs— Entails  and  Divorce. 

Hardly  had  Lady  Mary  reached  Brescia  when  the 
health  she  had  boasted  of  in  the  last  lines  of  her  letter 
to  her  husband  broke  down,  either  from  fatigue  or 
some  other  cause.  She  was  seized  with  a  fever,  which 
kept  her  in  bed  for  two  months.  But  fortunately 
Count  Palazzo's  mother  had  insisted  on  taking  her 
in,  and  nursed  her,  as  she  herself  said,  as  if  she  had 
been   a  sister.     Lady   Mary    expresses    herself  in    the 


Residence  at  Lovere  175 

most  grateful  way  concerning  the  kindness  of  the 
Countess.  What  happened  afterwards  to  embroil  the 
guest  with  her  hosts  it  is  impossible  to  conjecture. 
The  Italian  paper  seen  by  Lord  Wharncliffe,  and 
drawn  up  for  Lady  Mary,  seemed  to  refer  to  some 
forcible  detention  by  an  Italian  Count  and  his  mother, 
who  could  hardly  be  other  than  Count  Palazzo  and  his 
parent.  Did  the  Count  presume  upon  his  services  to 
Lady  Mary,  and  did  his  mother  take  his  side  ?  Did 
the  family  try  to  make  a  profit  out  of  their  presumably 
wealthy  guest  ?  or  did  they  simply  try  to  prolong  their 
direction  of  her  affairs  later  than  was  necessary  ?  In 
any  case,  some  quarrel  there  seems  to  have  been,  for 
there  is  apparently  no  further  mention  of  the  Palazzo 
family  in  the  correspondence,  though  one  would  natu- 
rally expect  them  to  remain  Lady  Mary's  most  valued 
friends  while  she  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Brescia. 
However,  by  March,  1747,  she  was  restored  to  fair 
health,  and  living  in  a  house  of  her  own  near  Brescia. 
But  the  ague  from  which  she  had  suffered  returned  on 
her,  and  her  doctors  recommended  her  to  try  Lovere, 
a  place  at  the  northern  extremity  of  Lake  Iseo,  valued 
for  its  medicinal  springs.  Her  first  impressions  of  the 
place  are  recorded  in  a  letter  to  her  daughter.  Lady 
Bute: 

*'  Dear  Child, — I  am  now  in  a  place  the  most 
beautifully  romantic  I  ever  saw  in  my  life  :  it  is  the 
Tunbridge  of  this  part  of  the  world,  to  which  I  was 
sent  b}^  the  doctor's  order,  my  ague  often  returning, 
notwithstanding  the  loads  of  bark  I  have  taken.     To 


1/6  Residence  at  Lovere 

say  truth,  I  have  no  reason  to  repent  my  journey, 
though  I  was  very  unwilHng  to  undertake  it,  it  being 
forty  miles,  half  by  land  and  half  by  water ;  the  land 
so  stony  I  was  almost  shook  to  pieces,  and  I  had  the  ill 
luck  to  be  surprised  with  a  storm  on  the  lake,  that  if  I 
had  not  been  near  a  little  port  (where  I  passed  a  night 
in  a  very  poor  inn),  the  vessel  must  have  been  lost.  A 
fair  wind  brought  me  hither  next  morning  early.  I 
found  a  very  good  lodging,  a  great  deal  of  good  com- 
pany, and  a  village  in  many  respects  resembling  Tun- 
bridge  Wells,  not  only  in  the  quality  of  the  waters, 
which  is  the  same,  but  in  the  manner  of  the  buildings, 
most  of  the  houses  being  separate  at  little  distances, 
and  all  built  on  the  sides  of  hills,  which  indeed  are  far 
different  from  those  of  Tunbridge,  being  six  times  as 
high :  they  are  really  vast  rocks  of  different  figures, 
covered  with  green  moss,  or  short  grass,  diversified  by 
tufts  of  trees,  little  woods,  and  here  and  there  vine- 
yards, but  no  other  cultivation,  except  gardens  like 
those  on  Richmond  Hill.  The  whole  lake,  which  is 
twenty-five  miles  long,  and  three  broad,  is  all  sur- 
rounded with  these  impassable  mountains,  the  sides  of 
which,  towards  the  bottom,  are  so  thick  set  with 
villages  (and  in  most  of  them  gentlemen's  seats),  that  I 
do  not  believe  there  is  anywhere  above  a  mile  distance 
from  one  another,  which  adds  very  much  to  the  beauty 
of  the  prospect. 

**  We  have  an  opera  here,  which  is  performed  three 
times  in  the  week.  I  was  at  it  last  night,  and  should 
have    been    surprised    at  the    neatness  of  the  scenes, 


Residence  at  Lover e  177 

goodness  of  the  voices,  and  justness  of  the  actors,  if  I 
had  not  remembered  I  was  in  Italy.  Several  gentlemen 
jumped  into  the  orchestra,  and  joined  in  the  concert, 
which  I  suppose  is  one  of  the  freedoms  of  the  place,  for 
I  never  saw  it  in  any  great  town.  I  was  yet  more  amazed 
(while  the  actors  were  dressing  for  the  farce  that  con- 
cluded the  entertainment)  to  see  one  of  the  principal 
among  them,  and  as  errant  a  petit  maitre  as  if  he  had 
passed  all  his  life  at  Paris,  mount  the  stage,  and  pre- 
sent us  with  a  cantata  of  his  own  performing.  He  had 
the  pleasure  of  being  almost  deafened  with  applause. 
The  ball  began  afterwards,  but  I  was  not  witness  of  it, 
having  accustomed  myself  to  such  early  hours  that  I 
was  half  asleep  before  the  opera  finished ;  it  begins  at 
ten  o'clock,  so  that  it  was  one  before  I  could  get  to 
bed,  though  I  had  supper  before  I  went,  which  is  the 
custom." 

From  the  time  of  her  establishing  herself  at  Lovere, 
Lady  Mary's  letters  were  chiefly  written  to  her  daughter. 
She  still  continued  to  correspond  with  her  husband  ; 
but  a  certain  constraint  is  always  to  be  observed  in  her 
letters  to  him,  whereas  to  her  daughter  she  pours  out 
her  thoughts  with  an  affectionate  garrulity.  She  soon 
settled  down  into  the  quiet  Italian  country  life ;  and, 
liberal  as  are  the  ideas  Horace  Walpole  seems  to  have 
entertained  on  her  dissipations,  she  apparently  con- 
tented herself  with  whist  at  penny  points.  As  she 
wrote  to  Lady  Bute  in  December,  1747  : 

"  I  find  I  amuse  myself  here  in  the  same  manner  as 
if  at  London,  according  to  your  account  of  it ;  that  is, 

12 


ijS  Residence  at  Lover e 

I  play  at  whist  every  night  with  some  old  priests  that 
I  have  taught  it  to,  and  are  my  only  companions.  To 
say  truth,  the  decay  of  my  sight  will  no  longer  suffer 
me  to  read  by  candlelight,  and  the  evenings  are  now 
long  and  dark,  that  I  am  forced  to  stay  at  home.  I 
believe  you'll  be  persuaded  my  gaming  makes  nobody 
uneasy,  when  I  tell  you  that  we  play  only  a  penny  per 
corner.  'Tis  now  a  year  that  I  have  lived  wholly  in  the 
country,  and  have  no  design  of  quitting  it.  I  am 
entirely  given  up  to  rural  amusements,  and  have  forgot 
there  are  any  such  things  as  wits  or  fine  ladies  in  the 
world." 

But  the  free  and  easy  hospitality  in  vogue  among  the 
nobility  of  Venetian  Lombardy  was  rather  too  much 
for  Lady  Mary's  philosophy — shall  we  say  for  her 
frugality  ? 

"  The  way  of  living  in  this  province  being,"  she 
writes,  "  what  I  believe  it  is  now  in  the  sociable  part 
of  Scotland,  and  was  in  England  a  hundred  years  ago. 
I  had  a  visit  in  the  beginning  of  these  holidays  of  thirty 
horse  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  with  their  servants  (by  the 
way,  the  ladies  all  ride  like  the  late  Duchess  of  Cleve- 
land). They  came  with  the  kind  intent  of  staying 
with  me  at  least  a  fortnight,  though  I  had  never  seen 
any  of  them  before ;  but  they  were  all  neighbours 
within  ten  miles  round.  I  could  not  avoid  entertaining 
them  at  supper,  and  by  good  luck  had  a  large  quantity 
of  game  in  the  house,  which,  with  the  help  of  my 
poultry,  furnished  out  a  plentiful  table.  I  sent  for  the 
fiddles,  and  they  were  so  obliging  as  to  dance  all  night, 


Residence  at  Loverc  i  79 

and  even  dine  with  me  next  day,  though  none  of  them 
had  been  in  bed  ;  and  were  much  disappointed  I  did 
not  press  them  to  stay,  it  being  the  fashion  to  go  in 
troops  to  one  another's  houses,  hunting  and  dancing 
together  a  month  in  each  castle.  I  have  not  yet 
returned  any  of  their  visits,  nor  do  not  intend  it  for 
some  time,  to  avoid  this  expensive  hospitahty.  The 
trouble  of  it  is  not  very  great,  they  not  expecting  any 
ceremony.  I  left  the  room  about  one  o'clock,  and  they 
continued  their  ball  in  the  saloon  above  stairs,  without 
being  at  all  offended  at  my  departure.  But  the  greatest 
diversion  I  had  was  to  see  a  lady  of  my  own  age  com- 
fortably dancing  with  her  own  husband,  some  years  older ; 
and  I  can  assert  that  she  jumps  and  gallops  with  the 
best  of  them." 

This  kind  of  friendly  irruption  seems  to  have  been 
common  in  carnival  time,  though  the  next  instance 
was  not  so  expensive. 

"  Some  ladies  in  the  neighbourhood  favoured  me  last 
week  with  a  visit  in  masquerade.  They  were  all  dressed 
in  white  like  vestal  virgins,  with  garlands  in  their  hands. 
They  came  at  night  with  violins  and  flambeaux,  but  did 
not  stay  more  than  one  dance ;  pursuing  their  way  to 
another  castle  some  miles  from  hence." 

But  Lady  Mary  retained  a  lively  interest  in  English 
doings,  particularly  in  those  of  her  children.  Her  son 
at  this  time  was  secretary  to  his  relation,  Lord  Sand- 
wich, English  Plenipotentiary  at  the  Congress  of  Aix- 
la-Chapelle  ;  but  her  pleasure  at  the  good  report  given 
by  Lord   Sandwich   was    dashed  by  the   fear   that    it 

12 — 2 


i8o  Residence  at  Love  re 

might  be  dictated  by  interested  motives.  Lord  and 
Lady  Bute  had  also  been  more  in  public,  the  former 
having  developed  a  taste  for  private  theatricals,  by 
which  he  gratified  both  himself  and  his  master,  Fred- 
erick, Prince  of  Wales.  It  appears  that  Lord  Bute  and 
his  friends  acted  Young's  ''  Revenge,"  one  of  the  plays 
the  poet  wrote  before  he  became  a  royal  chaplain. 
Young  was  a  friend  of  Lady  Mary's,  and  had  submitted 
some  of  his  plays  to  her  for  criticisms  and  suggestions. 
She  contrasted  the  dramatic  diversions  of  the  Court 
with  her  own  experience  of  carnival  gaieties  at  Lovere. 
''  I  give  you  thanks,  dear  child,  for  your  entertaining 
account  of  your  present  diversions.  I  find  the  public 
calamities  have  no  influence  on  the  pleasures  of  the 
town.  I  remember  very  well  the  play  of  the  '  Revenge,' 
having  been  once  acquainted  with  a  party  that  intended 
to  represent  it  (not  one  of  which  is  now  alive).  I  wish 
you  had  told  me  who  acted  the  principal  parts.  I 
suppose  Lord  Bute  was  Alonzo,  by  the  magnificence 
of  his  dress.  I  think  they  have  mended  their  choice  in 
the  '  Orphan  ' :  I  saw  it  played  at  Westminster  School, 
where  Lord  Erskine  was  Monimia,  and  then  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  figures  that  could  be  seen.  I  have 
had  here  (in  low  life)  some  amusements  of  the  same 
sort.  I  believe  I  wrote  you  word  I  intended  to  go  to 
the  opera  at  Brescia ;  but  the  weather  being  cold,  and 
the  roads  bad,  prevented  my  journey;  and  the  people 
of  this  village  (which  is  the  largest  I  know :  the  curate 
tells  me  he  has  two  thousand  communicants)  presented 
me  a  petition  for  leave  to  erect  a  theatre  in  my  saloon. 


Residence  at  Lover e  i8i 

This  house  has  stood  empty  many  years  before  I  took 
it,  and  they  were  accustomed  to  turn  the  stables  into 
a  playhouse  every  carnival :  it  is  now  occupied  by  my 
horses,  and  they  had  no  other  place  proper  for  a  stage. 
I  easily  complied  with  their  request,  and  was  surprised 
at  the  beauty  of  their  scenes,  which,  though  painted 
by  a  country  painter,  are  better  coloured,  and  the  per- 
spective better  managed,  than  in  any  of  the  second- 
rate  theatres  in  London.  I  liked  it  so  well,  it  is  not 
yet  pulled  down.  The  performance  was  yet  more  sur. 
prising,  the  actors  being  all  peasants ;  but  the  Italians 
have  so  natural  a  genius  for  comedy,  they  acted  as  well 
as  if  they  had  been  brought  up  to  nothing  else,  par- 
ticularly the  Arlequin,  who  far  surpassed  any  of  our 
Enghsh,  though  only  the  tailor  of  the  village,  and  I 
am  assured  never  saw  a  play  in  any  other  place.  It 
is  a  pity  they  have  not  better  poets,  the  pieces  being 
not  at  all  superior  to  our  drolls.  The  music,  habits, 
and  illumination  were  at  the  expense  of  the  parish, 
and  the  whole  entertainment,  which  lasted  the  three 
last  days  of  the  carnival,  cost  me  only  a  barrel  of  wine, 
which  I  gave  the  actors,  and  is  not  so  dear  as  small 
beer  in  London.     At  present,  as  the  old  song  says, 

"  '  All  my  whole  care 
Is  my  farming  affair, 
To  make  my  corn  grow,  and  my  apple-trees  bear.' 

My  improvements  give  me  great  pleasure,  and  so  much 
profit,  that  if  I  could  live  a  hundred  years  longer,  I 
should  certainly  provide  for  all  my  grandchildren :  but, 


iS2  Residence  at  Lovere 

alas  !  as  the  Italians  say,  h^o  sojiato  vingt  &  quatro  ora  :* 
and  it  is  not  long  I  must  expect  to  write  myself  your 
most  affectionate  mother." 

In  later  letters  Lady  Mary  described  to  her  daughter 
her  establishment  at  Lovere,  where  she  had  not  only 
rented  an  old  chateau  or  ''  castle,"  as  she  calls  it,  but 
took  a  garden  and  farm-house  near  the  river  Oglio  for 
the  summer  heats.  Soon  after  the  date  of  this  letter 
she  bought  the  ''castle"  outright  for  a  small  sum,  and 
fitted  it  up  partly  as  a  residence.  The  description  of 
her  "  dairy- house  "  and  garden  is  entertaining  : 

^''I  have  been  these  six  weeks,  and  still  am,  at  my 
dairy-house,  which  joins  to  my  garden.  I  believe  I 
have  already  told  you  it  is  a  long  mile  from  the  castle, 
which  is  situate  in  the  midst  of  a  very  large  village, 
once  a  considerable  town,  part  of  the  walls  still  re- 
maining, and  has  not  vacant  ground  enough  about  it 
to  make  a  garden,  which  is  my  greatest  anmsement, 
it  being  now  troublesome  to  walk,  or  even  go  in  the 
chaise  till  the  evening.  I  have  fitted  up  in  this  farm- 
house a  room  for  myself — that  is  to  say,  strewed  the 
floor  with  rushes,  covered  the  chimney  with  moss  and 
branches,  and  adorned  the  room  with  basins  of 
earthenware  (which  is  made  here  to  great  perfection) 
filled  with  flowers,  and  put  in  some  straw  chairs,  and 
a  couch  bed,  which  is  my  whole  furniture.  This  spot 
of  ground  is  so  beautiful,  I  am  afraid  you  will  scarce 
credit  the  description,  which,  however,  I  can  assure 
you,  shall  be  ver}'  literal,  without  any  embellishment 

*  So  in  the  original.     Lady  Mary's  Italian  was  not  very  accurate. 


Residence  at  Lover e  183 

from  imagination.  It  is  on  a  bank,  forming  a  kind 
of  peninsula,  raised  from  the  river  Oglio  fifty  feet,  to 
which  3'ou  may  descend  by  easy  stairs  cut  in  the  turf, 
and  either  take  the  air  on  the  river,  which  is  as  large 
as  the  Thames  at  Richmond,  or  by  walking  [in]  an 
avenue  two  hundred  yards  on  the  side  of  it,  you  find 
a  wood  of  a  hundred  acres,  which  was  all  ready  cut 
into  walks  and  ridings  when  I  took  it.  I  have  only 
added  fifteen  bowers  in  different  views,  with  seats  of 
turf.  They  were  easily  made,  here  being  a  large 
quantity  of  underwood,  and  a  great  number  of  wild 
vines,  which  twist  to  the  top  of  the  highest  trees,  and 
from  which  they  make  a  very  good  sort  of  wine  they 
call  byusco.  I  am  now  writing  to  you  in  one  of  these 
arbours,  which  is  so  thickly  shaded,  the  sun  is  not 
troublesome,  even  at  noon.  Another  is  on  the  side  of 
the  river,  where  I  have  made  a  camp  kitchen,  that  I 
may  take  the  fish,  dress,  and  eat  it  immediately,  and 
at  the  same  time  see  the  barks,  which  ascend  or 
descend  every  day  to  or  from  Mantua(  Guastalla,  or 
Pont  de  Vie,  all  considerable  towns.)  This  little  w^ood 
is  carpeted,  in  their  succeeding  seasons,  with  violets 
and  strawberries,  inhabited  by  a  nation  of  nightingales, 
and  filled  with  game  of  all  kinds,  excepting  deer  and 
wild  boar,  the  first  being  unknown  here,  and  not  being 
large  enough  for  the  other. 

"  My  garden  \vas  a  plain  vineyard  when  it  came  into 
my  hands  not  two  years  ago,  and  it  is,  with  a  small 
expense,  turned  into  a  garden  that  (apart  from  the 
advantage   of  the  climate)  I  like  better  than  that  of 


184  Residence  at  Lovere 

Kensington.  The  Italian  vineyards  are  not  planted 
like  those  in  France,  but  in  clumps,  fastened  to  trees 
planted  in  equal  ranks  (commonly  fruit-trees),  and 
continued  in  festoons  from  one  to  another,  which  I 
have  turned  into  covered  galleries  of  shade,  that  I  can 
walk  in  the  heat  without  being  incommoded  by  it.  I 
have  made  a  dining-room  of  verdure,  capable  of  hold- 
ing a  table  of  twenty  covers ;  the  whole  ground  is 
three  hundred  and  seventeen  feet  in  length,  and  two 
hundred  in  breadth.  You  see  it  is  far  from  large ;  but 
so  prettily  disposed  (though  I  say  it),  that  I  never  saw 
a  more  agreeable  rustic  garden,  abounding  with  all 
sort  of  fruit,  and  produces  a  variety  of  wines  I  would 
send  you  a  piece  [s/c]  if  I  did  not  fear  the  customs 
would  make  you  pay  too  dear  for  it.  I  believe  my 
description  gives  you  but  an  imperfect  idea  of  my 
garden.  Perhaps  I  shall  succeed  better  in  describing 
my  manner  of  life,  which  is  as  regular  as  that  of  any 
monastery.  I  generally  rise  at  six,  and  as  soon  as  I 
have  breakfasted,  put  myself  at  the  head  of  my  weeder 
\sic\  women  and  work  with  them  till  nine.  I  then 
inspect  my  dairy,  and  take  a  turn  among  my  poultry, 
which  is  a  very  large  inquiry.  I  have,  at  present,  two 
hundred  chickens,  besides  turkeys,  geese,  ducks,  and 
peacocks.  All  things  have  hitherto  prospered  under 
my  care;  my  bees  and  silkworms  are  doubled,  and 
I  am  told  that,  without  accidents,  my  capital  will  be 
so  in  two  years'  time.  At  eleven  o'clock  I  retire  to 
my  books :  I  dare  not  indulge  myself  in  that  pleasure 
above  an  hour.     At  twelve  I  constantl}-  dine,  and  sleep 


Residence  at  Lover e  185 

after  dinner  till  about  three.  I  then  send  for  some  of 
my  old  priests,  and  either  play  at  piquet  or  whist,  till 
'tis  cool  enough  to  go  out.  One  evening  I  walk  in  my 
wood,  where  I  often  sup,  take  the  air  on  horseback  the 
next,  and  go  on  the  water  the  third.  The  fishery  of 
this  part  of  the  river  belongs  to  me ;  and  my  fisher- 
man's little  boat  (where  I  have  a  green  lutestring 
awning)  serves  me  for  a  barge.  He  and  his  son  are 
my  rowers  without  any  expense,  he  being  very  well 
paid  by  the  profit  of  the  fish,  which  I  give  him  on  con- 
dition of  having  every  day  one  dish  for  my  table.  Here 
is  plenty  of  every  sort  of  fresh-water  fish  (excepting  sal- 
mon) ;  but  we  have  a  large  trout  so  like  it,  that  I,  that 
have  almost  forgot  the  taste,  do  not  distinguish  it." 

And  in  the  very  next  letter  to  her  daughter,  Lady 
Mary  returns  to  the  subject  of  her  garden : 

^'  I  am  really  as  fond  of  my  garden  as  a  young 
author  of  his  first  play  when  it  has  been  well  received 
by  the  town,  and  can  no  more  forbear  teasing  my 
acquaintance  for  their  approbation :  though  I  gave 
you  a  long  account  of  it  in  my  last,  I  must  tell  you 
I  have  made  two  little  terraces,  raised  twelve  steps 
each,  at  the  end  of  my  great  walk ;  they  are  just 
finished,  and  a  great  addition  to  the  beauty  of  my 
garden.  I  enclose  to  you  a  rough  draft  of  it,  drawn 
(or  more  properly  scrawled)  by  my  own  hand,  without 
the  assistance  of  rule  or  compasses,  as  you  will  easily 
perceive.  I  have  mixed  in  my  espaliers  as  many  rose 
and  jessamine  trees  as  I  can  cram  in  ;  and  in  the  squares 
designed  for  the  use  of  the  kitchen,  have  avoided  putting 


1 86  Residence  at  Lovere 

anything  disagreeable  either  to  sight  or  smell,  having 
another  garden  below  for  cabbage,  onions,  garlic,  etc. 
All  the  walks  are  garnished  with  beds  of  flowers,  beside 
the  parterres,  which  are  for  a  more  distinguished 
sort.  I  have  neither  brick  nor  stone  walls :  all  my 
fence  is  a  high  hedge,  mingled  with  trees ;  but  fruit 
[is]  so  plent}'  in  this  country,  nobody  thinks  it  worth 
stealing.  Gardening  is  certainly  the  next  amusement 
to  reading;  and  as  my  sight  will  now  permit  me  little 
of  that,  I  am  glad  to  form  a  taste  that  can  give  me  so 
much  employment,  and  be  the  plaything  of  my  age, 
now  my  pen  and  needle  are  almost  useless  to  me." 

The  greatest  personages  in  this  part  of  Italy  seem 
to  have  conformed  to  the  fashion  of  making  impromptu 
visits,  as  we  see  by  the  following  letter : 

*'  I  was  surprised  not  man}^  days  ago  by  a  very 
extraordinary  visit  :  it  was  from  the  Duchess  of 
Guastalla,  who  you  know  is  a  Princess  of  the  house 
d'Armstadt,*  and  reported  to  be  near  marriage  with 
the  King  of  Sardinia.  I  confess  it  was  an  honour  I 
could  easily  have  spared,  she  coming  attended  with 
the  greatest  part  of  her  Court ;  her  grand-master,  who 
is  brother  to  Cardinal  Valenti,  the  first  ladv  of  her 
bed-chamber,  four  pages,  and  a  long  et  cetera  of 
inferior  servants,  besides  her  guards.  She  entered 
with  an  easy  French  air,  and  told  me,  since  I  would 

■^  This  Princess  of  the  house  of  Hesse- Darmstadt  was  the 
Duchess  Dowager  of  Guastalla,  the  Duke  being  dead.  The 
Dachy  of  Guastalla  was  added  to  Parma  and  Piacenza,  given  to 
Don  Philip  by  the  Treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapclle  in  1748. 


Residence  at  Lovere  187 

not  oblige  her  by  coming  to  her  Court,  she  was  resolved 
to  come  to  me,  and  eat  a  salad  of  my  raising,  having 
heard  much  fame  of  my  gardening.  You  may  imagine 
I  gave  her  as  good  a  supper  as  I  could.  She  was  (or 
seemed  to  be)  extremely  pleased  with  an  English  sack- 
posset  of  my  ordering.  I  owned  to  her  freely  that  my 
house  was  much  at  her  service,  but  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  find  beds  for  all  her  suite.  She  said  she 
intended  to  return  when  the  moon  rose,  which  was  an 
hour  after  midnight.  In  the  mean  time  I  sent  for  the 
violins  to  entertain  her  attendants,  who  were  very  well 
pleased  to  dance,  while  she  and  her  grand-master  and 
I  played  at  piquet.  She  pressed  me  extremely  to  return 
with  her  to  her  jointure-house,  where  she  now  resides 
(all  the  furniture  of  Guastalla  being  sold).  I  excused 
myself  on  not  daring  to  venture  in  the  cold  night 
fifteen  miles,  but  promised  I  would  not  fail  to  pay  her 
my  acknowledgments  for  the  great  honour  her  high- 
ness had  done  me,  in  a  very  short  time,  and  we  parted 
very  good  friends.  She  said  she  intended  this  spring 
to  retire  into  her  native  country.  I  did  not  take  the 
liberty  of  mentioning  to  her  the  report  of  her  being  in 
treaty  with  the  King  of  Sardinia,  though  it  has  been 
in  the  newspaper  of  Mantua  ;  but  I  found  an  oppor- 
tunity of  hinting  it  to  Signer  Gonzagna,  her  grand- 
master, who  told  me  the  Duchess  would  not  have  been 
pleased  to  talk  of  it,  since,  perhaps,  there  was  nothing 
in  it  more  than  a  friendship  that  had  long  been  between 
them,  and  since  her  widowhood  the  King  sends  her  an 
express  every  day." 


1 88  Residence  at  Lovere 

In  the  spring  of  1749  Lady  Mary  moved  to  Goto- 
lengo,  a  place  near  Brescia,  of  about  the  same  size  as 
Lovere.  Here  she  found  a  seemingly  Roman  monu- 
ment. 

*'  A  very  fair  inscription,  in  large  characters,  on  a 
large  stone  found  in  the  pavement  of  the  old  church, 
and  makes  now  a  part  of  the  wall  of  the  new  one,  which 
is  now  building.  The  people  here,  who  are  as  ignorant 
as  their  oxen,  and  live  like  them  on  the  product  of  their 
land,  without  any  curiosity  for  the  history  of  it,  would 
infer  from  thence  that  this  town  is  of  Roman  founda- 
tion, though  the  walls,  which  are  yet  the  greatest  part 
standing  (only  the  towers  and  battlements  demolished), 
are  very  plainly  Gothic,  and  not  one  brick  to  be  found  any- 
where of  Roman  fabric,  which  is  very  easily  distinguished. 
I  can  easily  believe  their  tradition,  that  the  old  church, 
which  was  pulled  down  two  years  ago,  being  ready  to 
drop,  v/as  a  pagan  temple,  and  do  not  doubt  it  was  a  con- 
siderable town,  founded  by  the  Goths  when  they  overran 
Ital}'.  The  fortifications  were  strong  for  that  age  :  the 
ditch  still  remaining  without  the  walls  being  very  broad 
and  deep,  in  which  ran  the  little  river  that  is  now  before 
my  house,  and  the  moat  turned  into  gardens  for  the  use 
of  the  town,  the  name  of  which  being  Gotolengo,  is  a 
confirmation  of  my  conjecture.  The  castle,  which  cer- 
tainly stood  on  the  spot  where  my  house  now  does, 
being  on  an  eminence  in  the  midst  of  the  town,  was 
probably  destroyed  by  fire.  When  I  ordered  the  court 
to  be  levelled,  which  was  grown  uneven  by  long  neglect' 
there  was  found  such  quantities  of  burnt  bricks,  that 


Residence  at  Lovere  189 

plainly  showed  the  remains  of  a  considerable  fire ;  but 
whether  by  the  enemy,  or  accidental,  I  could  get  no  in- 
formation. They  have  no  records,  or  parish  books, 
beyond  the  time  of  their  coming  under  the  Venetian 
dominion,  which  is  not  much  above  three  hundred 
years  ago,  at  which  time  they  were,  as  they  now  are, 
a  large  village,  being  two  miles  in  circuit,  and  contains 
\_^ic\  at  present  (as  the  curate  told  me)  two  thousand 
communicants.  The  ladies  of  this  neighbourhood  that 
had  given  themselves  the  trouble  and  expense  of  going 
to  see  Don  Philip's  entry  into  Parma,  are  returned, 
according  to  the  French  saying,  avec  un  pied  dc  nez.  As 
they  had  none  of  them  ever  seen  a  court  before,  they  had 
figured  to  themselves  prodigious  scenes  of  gallantry  and 
magnificence." 
The  mildness  of  the  winter  created  fears  of  epidemics  : 
*'  We  have  hitherto  had  no  winter,  to  the  great 
sorrow  of  the  people  here,  who  are  in  fear  of  wanting 
ice  in  the  summer,  which  is  as  necessary  as  bread. 
They  also  attribute  a  malignant  fever,  which  has  carried 
off  great  numbers  in  the  neighbouring  towns,  to  the 
uncommon  warmth  of  the  air.  It  has  not  infected  this 
village,  which  they  say  has  ever  been  free  from  any 
contagious  distemper.  It  is  very  remarkable  that  when 
the  disease  amongst  the  cattle  raged  with  great  violence 
all  round,  not  one  died  or  sickened  here.  The  method 
of  treating  the  physician  in  this  country,  I  think,  should 
be  the  same  everywhere  :  they  make  it  his  interest  that 
the  whole  parish  should  be  in  good  health,  giving  him 
a  stated  pension,  which  is  collected  by  a  tax  on  every 


I  go  Residence  at  Love  re 

house,  on  condition  he  neither  demands  nor  receives 
any  fees,  nor  even  refuses  a  visit  either  to  rich  or  poor. 
This  last  article  would  be  very  hard,  if  we  had  as  many 
vapourish  ladies  as  in  England  ;  but  those  imaginary 
ills  are  entirely  unknown  here.  When  I  recollect  the 
vast  fortunes  raised  by  doctors  amongst  us,  and  the 
eager  pursuit  after  every  new  piece  of  quackery  that 
is  introduced,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  there  is  a 
fund  of  credulity  in  mankind  that  must  be  employed 
somewhere,  and  the  money  formerly  given  to  monks 
for  the  health  of  the  soul,  is  now  thrown  to  doctors  for 
health  of  the  body,  and  generally  with  as  little  real 
prospect  of  success." 

This  last  reflection  is  a  repetition  of  what  Lady  Mary 
had  written  to  her  husband  before^  on  hearing  of  the 
popularity  of  tar-water  in  England. 

"  We  have  no  longer  faith  in  miracles  and  relics,  and 
therefore  with  the  same  fury  run  after  recipes  and 
physicians.  The  same  money  which  three  hundred 
years  ago  was  given  for  the  health  of  the  soul  is  now 
given  for  the  health  of  the  body,  and  by  the  same  sort 
of  people — women  and  half-witted  men.  In  the 
countries  where  they  have  shrines  and  images,  quacks 
are  despised,  and  monks  and  confessors  find  their 
account  in  managing  the  fear  and  hope  which  rule  the 
actions  of  the  multitude." 

Perhaps  the  spread  of  incredulity  in  matters  of 
religion  has  assimilated  other  countries  to  England 
in  this  respect.  Italy  no  longer  believes  its  priests 
without  questioning,  and  hence  can  find  faith  to  spare 


Residence  at  Loverc  191 

for  a  vendor  of  "  blue  electricity  "  and  the  like,  though 
it  is  but  fair  to  his  native  country  to  state  that  his 
chents  seem  to  be  largely  English,  of  the  classes 
mentioned  by  Lady  Mary. 

The  manners  and  customs  of  North  Italy  were  to 
her  a  constant  source  of  entertainment,  and  she  is 
constantly  comparing  them  with  those  of  England — as, 
for  instance,  even  in  a  matter  of  gossip  about  the 
interesting  topic  of  gambling  : 

'j  Your  new-fashioned  game  of  brag  was  the  genteel 
amusement  when  I  was  a  girl ;  crimp  succeeded  to  that, 
and  basset  and  hazard  employed  the  town  when  I  left 
it  to  go  to  Constantinople.  At  my  return,  I  found 
them  all  at  commerce,  which  gave  place  to  quadrille, 
and  that  to  whist ;  but  the  rage  of  play  has  been  ever 
the  same,  and  will  ever  be  so  among  the  idle  of  both 
sexes.  It  is  the  same  in  every  great  town,  and  I  think 
more  particularly  all  over  France.  Here  is  a  young 
man  of  quality,  one  mile  from  hence,  just  of  age  (which 
is  nineteen  through  all  the  Venetian  state),  who  lost 
last  carnival,  at  Brescia,  ten  thousand  pounds,  being 
all  the  money  his  guardians  had  laid  up  in  his  minority ; 
and,  as  his  estate  is  entailed,  he  cannot  raise  one 
farthing  on  it,  and  is  now  a  sort  of  prisoner  in  his 
castle,  where  he  lives  upon  rapine — I  mean  running  in 
debt  to  poor  people,  who  perhaps  he  will  never  be  able 
to  pay.  I  am  afraid  you  are  tired  with  this  insignificant 
letter ;  we  old  women  love  tattling ;  you  must  forgive 
the  infirmities  of  your  most  affectionate  mother." 
Lovere  was  not  wanting  in  aristocratic  inhabitants  ; 


192  Reside7ice  at  Lover e 

"  There  is  a  numerous  gentry  of  great  names  and 
little  fortunes  ;  six  of  those  families  inhabit  this  town. 
You  may  fancy  this  forms  a  sort  of  society ;  but  far 
from  it,  as  there  is  not  one  of  them  that  does  not  think 
(for  some  reason  or  other)  they  are  far  superior  to  all 
the  rest :  there  is  such  a  settled  aversion  amongst  them, 
they  avoid  one  another  with  the  utmost  care,  and  hardly 
ever  meet,  except  by  chance  at  the  castle  (as  they  call 
my  house),  where  their  regard  for  me  obliges  them  to 
behave  civilly,  but  it  is  with  an  affected  coldness  that  is 
downright  disagreeable,  and  hinders  me  from  seeing  any 
of  them  often." 

One  of  the  longest  letters  gives  an  amusing  but  rather 
too  free-spoken  account  of  a  domestic  difficulty  in  one  of 
these  families,  in  which  Lady  Mary's  intervention  pre- 
vented the  use  of  the  stiletto — she  having  been  called  in 
to  reconcile  an  injured  husband  and  an  erring  wife,  by 
the  remarkable  discretion  of  a  servant,  which  discretion, 
as  she  goes  on  to  say,  is  no  wonder  in  Italy,  though  un- 
usual in  England — for  "  any  servant  that  presumes  to 
talk  of  his  master  will  most  certainly  be  incapable  of 
talking  at  all  in  a  short  time,  their  lives  being  entirely  in 
the  power  of  their  superiors  :  I  do  not  mean  by  law,  but 
by  custom,  which  has  full  as  much  force.  If  one  of  them 
was  killed,  it  would  either  never  be  inquired  into  at  all, 
or  very  slightly  passed  over ;  yet  it  seldom  happens, 
and  I  know  no  instance  of  it,  which  I  think  is  owing  to 
the  great  submission  of  domestics,  who  are  sensible  of 
their  dependence,  and  the  national  temper  not  being 
hasty,  and  never  inflamed  bv  wine,  drunkenness  being 


Residence  at  Love  re  193 

a  vice  abandoned  to  the  vulgar,  and  spoke  of  with 
greater  detestation  than  murder,  which  is  mentioned 
with  as  little  concern  as  a  drinking-bout  in  England, 
and  is  almost  as  frequent.  It  was  extreme  shocking 
to  me  at  my  first  coming,  and  still  gives  me  a  sort  of 
horror,  though  custom  has  in  some  degree  familiarised 
it  to  my  imagination.  Robbery  would  be  pursued  with 
great  vivacity,  and  punished  with  the  utmost  rigour, 
therefore  is  very  rare,  though  stealing  is  in  daily 
practice ;  but  as  all  the  peasants  are  suffered  the  use 
of  fire-arms,  the  slightest  provocation  is  sufficient  to 
shoot,  and  they  see  one  of  their  own  species  lie  dead 
before  them  with  as  little  remorse  as  a  hare  or  a 
partridge,  and  when  revenge  spurs  them  on,  with  much 
more  pleasure." 

The  care  of  her  health  generally  brought  Lady  Mary 
back  to  Lovere  after  any  absence,  as  she  found  the 
waters  there  beneficial ;  and  most  of  her  letters  are 
written  from  there.  In  the  autumn  of  1750  she  paid  a 
visit  to  a  former  palace  of  the  Duke  of  Tuscany,  at 
Salo,  on  Lake  Garda,  and  gives  a  detailed  account  of 
it  to  her  daughter : 

*'  I  have  been  persuaded  to  go  to  a  palace  near  Salo, 
situate  on  the  vast  lake  of  Gardia  \sic\ ,  and  do  not 
repent  my  pains  since  my  arrival,  though  I  have  passed 
a  very  bad  road  to  it.  It  is,  indeed,  take  it  altogether, 
the  finest  place  I  ever  saw  :  the  King  of  France  has 
nothing  so  fine,  nor  can  have  in  his  situation.  It  is  large 
enough  to  entertain  all  his  Court,  and  much  larger  than 
the  royal  palace  of  Naples,  or  any  of  those  of  Germany 

13 


194  Reside7ice  at  Lovere 

or  England.  It  was  built  by  the  great  Cosmo,  Duke 
of  Florence,  where  he  passed  many  months,  for  several 
years,  on  the  account  of  his  health,  the  air  being 
esteemed  one  of  the  best  in  Italy.  All  the  offices  and 
conv^eniences  are  suitably  magnificent :  but  that  is 
nothing  in  regard  to  the  beauties  without  doors.  It  is 
seated  in  that  part  of  the  lake  which  forms  an  amphi- 
theatre, at  the  foot  of  a  mountain  near  three  miles  high, 
covered  with  a  wood  of  orange,  lemon,  citron,  and 
pomegranate  trees,  which  is  all  cut  into  walks,  and 
divided  into  terraces,  that  you  may  go  into  a  several 
garden  from  every  floor  in  the  house,  diversified  with 
fountains,  cascades,  and  statues,  and  joined  by  easy 
marble  staircases,  which  lead  from  one  to  another. 
There  are  many  covered  walks,  where  you  are  secure 
from  the  sun  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  day,  by  the 
shade  of  the  orange-trees,  which  are  so  loaded  with 
fruit,  you  can  hardly  have  any  notion  of  their  beauty 
without  seeing  them  :  they  are  as  large  as  lime-trees 
in  England.  You  will  think  I  say  a  great  deal :  I  will 
assure  you  I  say  far  short  of  what  I  see,  and  you  must 
turn  to  the  fairy  tales  to  give  any  idea  of  the  real 
charms  of  this  enchanting  palace,  for  so  it  may  justly 
be  called.  The  variety  of  the  prospects,  the  natural 
beauties,  and  the  improvements  by  art,  where  no  cost 
has  been  spared  to  perfect  it,  render  it  the  most 
complete  habitation  I  know  in  Europe.  While  the 
poor  present  master  of  it  (to  whose  ancestor  the  Grand- 
Duke  presented  it,  having  built  it  on  his  land),  having 
spent  a  noble  estate  by  gaming  and  other  extravagance. 


Residence  at  Lovere  195 

would  be  glad  to  let  it  for  a  trifle,  and  is  not  rich  enough 
to  live  in  it.  Most  of  the  fine  furniture  is  sold  ;  there 
remains  only  a  few  of  the  many  good  pictures  that 
adorned  it,  and  such  goods  as  were  not  easily  to  be 
transported,  or  for  which  he  found  no  chapman.  I 
have  said  nothing  to  you  of  the  magnificent  bath, 
embellished  with  statues,  or  the  fish-ponds,  the  chief 
of  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  garden  to  which  I  go 
from  my  apartment  on  the  first  floor.  It  is  circled  by 
a  marble  baluster,  and  supplied  by  water  from  a  cascade 
that  proceeds  from  the  mouth  of  a  whale,  on  which 
Neptune  is  mounted,  surrounded  with  reeds  :  on  each 
side  of  him  are  Tritons,  which,  from  their  shells,  pour 
out  streams  that  augment  the  pond.  Higher  on  the 
hill  are  three  colossal  statues  of  Venus,  Hercules,  and 
Apollo.  The  water  is  so  clear,  you  see  the  numerous 
fish  that  inhabit  it,  and  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to 
throw  them  bread,  which  they  come  to  the  surface  to 
eat  with  great  greediness.'^ 

But  although  by  this  time  Lady  Mary  was  somewhat 
tired  of  Lovere,  she  was  compelled  again  and  again  to 
return  there.  On  one  of  these  returns  she  writes  :  "  I 
find  much  more  company  than  ever.  I  have  done  by 
these  waters  as  I  formerly  did  by  those  at  Islington  ; 
you  may  remember  when  I  first  carried  you  there,  we 
scarce  saw  any  but  ourselves,  and  in  a  short  time  we 
could  hardly  find  room  for  the  crowd."* 

The  inhabitants  of  Lovere  seem  to  have  been  alive 

■^  Islington  Spa  had  revived  about   1732.     Perhaps  Lady  Mary 
had  induced  her  royal  and  noble  friends  to  follow  her  there. 


196  Residence  at  Lovere 

to  the  advantages  of  having  the  celebrated  EngHsh 
lady  in  their  midst,  and  omitted  no  means  to  retain 
her  there — she  was  to  them,  in  a  smaller  way,  what 
Lord  Brougham  afterwards  was  to  Cannes.  Besides 
this,  she  had  introduced  certain  useful  arts  in  vogue  in 
England,  though  possibly  rather  to  employ  herself  than 
to  benefit  those  for  whom  she  professed  an  utter  in- 
difference. 

**The  people  I  see  here  make  no  more  impression 
on  my  mind  than  the  figures  in  the  tapestry :  while 
they  are  directly  before  my  eyes,  I  know  one  is  clothed 
in  blue,  and  another  in  red  :  but  out  of  sight,  they  are 
so  entirely  out  of  memory,  I  hardly  remember  whether 
they  are  tall  or  short.  I  sometimes  call  myself  to  ac- 
count for  this  insensibility,  which  has  something  of 
ingratitude  in  it,  this  little  town  thinking  themselves 
highly  honoured  and  obliged  by  my  residence :  they 
intended  me  an  extraordinary  mark  of  it,  having  deter- 
mined to  set  up  my  statue  in  the  most  conspicuous 
place :  the  marble  was  bespoke,  and  the  sculptor  bar- 
gained with,  before  I  knew  anything  of  the  matter  ;  and 
it  would  have  been  erected  without  my  knowledge,  if  it 
had  not  been  necessary  for  him  to  see  me  to  take  the 
resemblance.  I  thanked  him  ver}'  much  for  his  inten- 
tion ;  but  utterly  refused  complying  with  it,  fearing  it 
would  be  reported  (at  least  in  England)  that  I  had  set 
up  my  own  statue.  They  were  so  obstinate  in  the  de- 
sign, I  was  forced  to  tell  them  my  religion  would  not 
permit  it.  I  seriously  believe  it  would  have  been  wor- 
shipped, when  I  was  forgotten,  under  the  name  oi  some 


Residence  at  Lover e  197 

saint  or  other,  since  I  was  to  have  been  represented 
with  a  book  in  my  hand,  which  would  have  passed  for 
a  proof  of  canonisation.  This  comphment  was  certainly 
founded  on  reasons  not  unlike  those  that  first  framed 
goddesses,  I  mean  being  useful  to  them,  in  which  I  am 
second  to  Ceres.  If  it  be  true  she  taught  the  art  of 
sowing  wheat,  it  is  sure  I  have  learned  them  to  make 
bread,  in  which  they  continued  in  the  same  ignorance 
Misson*  complains  of  (as  3'ou  may  see  in  his  letter  from 
Padua).  I  have  introduced  French  rolls,  custards, 
minced  pies,  and  plum  pudding,  which  they  are  ver}^ 
fond  of.  'Tis  impossible  to  bring  them  to  conform  to 
sillabub,  which  is  so  unnatural  a  mixture  in  their  eyes, 
they  are  even  shocked  to  see  me  eat  it :  but  I  expect 
immortality  from  the  science  of  butter-making,  in  which 
the}^  are  become  so  skilful  from  my  instructions,  I  can 
assure  you  here  is  as  good  as  in  any  part  of  Great 
Britain." 

In  175  i  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu  came  as  far  as  Vienna, 
and  seems  to  have  made  a  further  trip  into  Hungary — 
perhaps  to  provision  himself  with  his  favourite  tokay. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  join  his  wife  ;  and,  indeed,  the 
journey  over  the  Tyrolese  or  Carinthian  mountains, 
with  the  roads  of  those  times,  was  one  that  a  man 
of  seventy-three  might  well  shrink  from,  though  well 
able  to  endure  the  easy  route  along  the  Danube.  He 
wrote,  however,  to  Lady  Mary,  apparently  giving  an 
account  of  some  marvellous  instances  of  longevity  in 

*  Misson  was  a  French  traveller,  who  published  his  account  of 
Italy  in  1691. 


igS  Residence  at  Lovere 

Hungary,  which   she   capped   with   an   account  of  the 
famous  old  woman  of  Lovere  : 

**  I  have  often  read  and  been  told,  that  the  air  of 
Hungary  is  better,  and  the  inhabitants  in  general 
longer  lived,  than  in  any  other  part  of  Europe.  You 
have  given  me  a  very  surprising  instance  of  it,  far  sur- 
passing in  age  the  old  woman  of  Lovere,  though,  in 
some  circumstances,  I  think  her  story  as  extraordinary. 
She  died  but  ten  years  ago ;  and  it  is  well  remembered  by 
the  inhabitants  of  that  place,the  most  creditable  of  whom 
have  all  assured  me  of  the  truth  of  the  following  facts  : — 
She  kept  the  greatest  inn  there  till  past  fifty :  her  husband 
then  dying,  and  she  being  rich,  she  left  off  that  trade ; 
and  having  a  large  house,  with  a  great  deal  of  furniture, 
she  let  lodgings,  which  her  daughters  (two  maids  past 
seventy)  still  continue.  I  lodged  with  them  the  first 
year  of  my  going  to  those  waters.  She  lived  to  one 
hundred  with  good  health ;  but  in  the  last  five  years  of 
it  fell  into  the  decays  common  to  that  period — dimness 
of  sight,  loss  of  teeth,  and  baldness;  but  in  her  hun- 
dredth year,  her  sight  was  totally  restored,  she  had  a 
new  set  of  teeth,  and  a  fresh  head  of  brown  hair.  .  .  . 
She  lived  in  this  renewed  vigour  ten  years,  and  had 
then  her  picture  drawn,  which  has  a  vivacity  in  the 
eyes  and  complexion  that  would  become  five -and - 
twenty,  though,  by  the  falls  in  the  face,  one  may 
discern  it  w^as  drawn  for  a  very  old  person.  She  died 
merely  of  an  accident,  which  would  have  killed  any 
other — tumbling  down  a  very  bad  stone  staircase  which 
goes  into  the  cellar ;    she  broke   her   head   in   such  a 


Residence  at  Lovere  199 

manner,  she  lived  but  two  days.  The  physician  and 
surgeon  who  attended  her  told  me  her  age  no  way  con- 
tributed to  her  death.  I  inquired  whether  there  was 
any  singularity  in  her  diet,  but  heard  of  none,  excepting 
that  her  breakfast  was  every  morning  a  large  quantity 
of  bread  sopped  in  cold  water.  The  common  food  of 
the  peasants  in  this  country  is  the  Turkish  wheat  you 
mention,*  which  they  dress  in  various  manners,  but  use 
little  milk,  it  being  chiefly  reserved  for  cheese,  or  the 
tables  of  the  gentry.  I  have  not  observed,  either  among 
the  poor  or  rich,  that  in  general  they  live  longer  than 
in  England.  This  woman  of  Lovere  is  always  spoken 
of  as  a  prodigy ;  and  [I]  am  surprised  she  is  neither 
called  saint  nor  witch,  being  [szc]  very  prodigal  of  those 
titles." 

This  letter  of  her  husband's,  which  she  answered  in 
the  epistle  just  quoted,  must  have  been  the  "  entertain- 
ing letter  out  of  Germany "  to  which  she  alludes  in 
writing  to  her  daughter.  Lady  Bute,  it  appears,  had 
formed  notions  of  Italian  life  from  Misson  and  other 
obsolete  books  of  travel,  and  also  from  the  gossip  of 
English  travellers  returning  from  abroad ;  and  her 
mother  cautioned  her  against  accepting  these  reports 
as  trustworthy  : 

"  I  find  you  have  many  wrong  notions  of  Italy,  which 
I  do  not  wonder  at.  You  can  take  your  ideas  of  it  only 
from  books  or  travellers  ;  the  first  are  generally  anti- 
quated or  confined  to  trite  observations,  and  the  other 

■^  Maize,  or  Indian  corn,  still  the  staple  food  of  the  peasants  in 
North  Italy. 


200  Residence  at  Lovere 

yet  more  superficial  ;  they  return  no  more  instructed 

than  they  might  have  been  at  home  by  the  help  of  a 

map.     The  boys  only  remember  where  they  met  with 

the    best   wine    or    the    prettiest    women  :     and    the 

governors  (I  speak  of  the  most  learned  amongst  them) 

have   only   remarked   situations  and   distances,   or,    at 

most,  statues  and  edifices,  as  every  girl  that  can  read  a 

French  novel,  and  boy  that  can  construe  a  scene  in 

Terence,  fancies  they  have  attained  to  the  French  and 

Latin  languages,   when,    God    knows,  it    requires  the 

study  of  a  whole  life  to  acquire  a  perfect  knowledge  of 

either  of  them  :  so,  after  a  tour  (as  they  call  it)  of  three 

years  round  Europe,  people  think  themselves  qualified 

to  give  exact  accounts  of  the  customs,  policies,   and 

interests    of  the    dominions  they  have    gone   through 

post  ;  when  a  very  long  stay,  a  diligent  inquiry,  and  a 

nice    observation,    are    requisite    even   to    a    moderate 

degree  of  knowing  a  foreign  country,  especially  here, 

where    they    are    naturally   ver}^    reserved.       France, 

indeed,    is    more    easily    seen    through  :     the     French 

always   talking   of    themselves,    and    the    government 

being   the   same,    there    is    little    difference    from    one 

province  to  another ;  but,  in   Italy,  the  different  laws 

make    different  customs   and    manners,  which    are    in 

many  things  very  particular  here,  from  the  singularity 

of  the  government.     Some  I  do  not  care  to  touch  upon, 

and    some    are   still    in    use    here,    though  obsolete  in 

almost  all  other  places,  as  the  estates  of  all  the  great 

families    being    unalienable,  as  they  were  formerly   in 

England.     This  would  make  them  very  potent,  if  it  was 


Residence  at  Lover e  201 

not  balanced  b}/  another  law,  that  divides  whatever 
land  the  father  dies  possessed  of  among  all  the  sons, 
the  eldest  having  no  advantage  but  the  finest  house 
and  best  furniture.  This  occasions  numerous  branches 
and  few  large  fortunes,  with  a  train  of  consequences 
you  may  imagine.  But  I  cannot  let  pass  in  silence  the 
prodigious  alteration,  since  Misson's  writing,  in  regard 
to  our  sex.  This  reformation  (or,  if  you  please,  depra- 
vation) began  so  lately  as  the  year  1732,  when  the 
French  overrun  this  part  of  Italy  ;  but  it  has  been 
carried  on  with  such  fervour  and  success,  that  the 
Italian  go  far  beyond  their  patterns,  the  Parisian  ladies, 
in  the  extent  of  their  liberty.  I  am  not  so  much  sur- 
prised at  the  women's  conduct,  as  I  am  amazed  at  the 
change  in  the  men's  sentiments.  Jealousy,  which  was 
once  a  point  of  honour  among  them,  is  exploded  to  that 
degree,  it  is  the  most  infamous  and  ridiculous  of  all 
characters  ;  and  you  cannot  more  affront  a  gentleman 
than  to  suppose  him  capable  of  it.  Divorces  are  also 
introduced,  and  frequent  enough  ;  they  have  long  been 
in  fashion  in  Genoa  ;  several  of  the  finest  and  greatest 
ladies  there  having  two  husbands  alive." 

Into  the  particulars  of  the  humours  of  Italian  divorce 
we  need  not  follow  Lady  Mary. 


202  Letters  07i  English  Novels 


CHAPTER  VII 

LETTERS  ON  ENGLISH  NOVELS 

Lady  Mary's  Taste  for  Novels— Her  Defence  of  Novel-reading — 
All  Ages  must  have  Playthings  — Fielding's  Works — Joseph 
Andrews  —  An  Italian  Fanny  —  Bad  Influence  of  Fielding's 
Novels — His  Happy  Temperament  —  Smollett's  Works — The 
Parish  Girl — Pompey  the  Little — Lady  Mary's  Nervousness — 
Her  Diet — Criticism  the  only  Subject  to  write  about — The 
Rambler  a  Misnomer— Lord  Orrery  and  Swift — Swift  like 
Caligula — Pope  and  Swift— Lord  Bolingbroke's  Political  Doctrines 
— His  Diffuseness  —  Madame  de  Sevigne's  "Tittle-tattle" — 
Bolingbroke's  Defects— The  Character  of  Atticus— Richardson's 
Novels — Pamela  —  Clarissa  Harlowe — Lady  Mary  touched  by 
his  Pathos — Sir  Charles  Grandison — Richardson's  Ignorance  of 
Italy  and  of  High  Life  — Levelling  Tendencies  of  English  Life 
reflected  in  English  Novels. 

During  her  stay  at  Lovere  and  in  the  neighbourhood, 
Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  by  no  means  forgot  her 
taste  for  reading.  She  does  not  seem  to  have  cared 
much  for  French  literature — or,  possibly,  she  had  no 
friends  in  France  who  could  send  her  new  books  ;  and 
the  outbreak  of  war  in  1756  must  have  still  further 
increased  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  French  works. 
Italian  literature  was   to   her  only  represented   at   the 


Letters  on  English  Novels  203 

time  by  a  few  antiquarians,  or  virtuosi,  like  her  friends 
Cardinal  Querini  and  the  Marquis  Maffei ;  and  she  was 
thrown  back  on  English  books.  Of  these  she  seems  to 
have  preferred  the  more  diverting  class  of  fiction,  and 
the  boxes  of  books,  for  whose  safe  arrival  she  was  often 
so  anxious,  were  of  much  the  same  character  as  Mudie 
sows  broadcast  through  the  land. 

She  often  defends  her  taste  for  fiction  against  her 
own  past  notions  of  "  self-improvement "  and  the 
objections  of  her  daughter.  Lady  Mary  had  the 
courage  of  her  frivolity,  and  openly  avowed  her  return 
to  the  tastes  of  her  youth. 

'*  I  thank  God,"  she  writes,  "  my  taste  still  continues 
for  the  gay  part  of  reading.  Wiser  people  may  think 
it  trifling,  but  it  serves  to  sweeten  life  to  me,  and  is  at 
worst  better  than  the  generality  of  conversation."  And 
again,  in  another  letter  :  "  To  say  truth,  I  am  as  fond 
of  baubles  as  ever,  and  am  so  far  from  being  ashamed 
of  it,  it  is  a  taste  I  endeavour  to  keep  up  with  all  the 
art  I  am  mistress  of.  I  should  have  despised  them  at 
twenty,  for  the  same  reason  that  I  would  not  eat  tarts 
or  cheesecakes  at  twelve  years  old,  as  being  too  childish 
for  one  capable  of  more  solid  pleasures.  I  now  know 
(and,  alas  !  have  long  known)  all  things  in  the  world 
are  almost  equally  trifling,  and  our  most  secret  pro- 
jects have  scarce  more  foundation  than  those  edifices 
that  your  little  ones  raise  in  cards."  And  Lady  Bute's 
allusions  to  the  ''trash"  her  miOther  read  drew  down  a 
humorous  rejoinder,  with  a  sly  allusion  to  Lord  Bute's 
Court  ambitions  ; 


204  Letters  on  English  Novels 

"Daughter!  daughter!  don't  call  names;  you  are 
always  abusing  my  pleasures,  which  is  what  no  mortal 
will  bear.  Trash,  lumber,  sad  stuff,  are  the  titles  you 
give  to  my  favourite  amusement.  If  I  called  a  white 
staff  a  stick  of  wood,  a  gold  key  gilded  brass,  and  the 
ensigns  .of  illustrious  orders  coloured  strings,  this  may 
be  philosophically  true,  but  would  be  very  ill  received. 
We  have  all  our  playthings  :  happy  are  they  that  can 
be  contented  with  those  they  can  obtain  :  those  hours 
are  spent  in  the  wisest  manner,  that  can  easiest  shade 
the  ills  of  life,  and  are  least  productive  of  ill  conse- 
quences. I  think  my  time  better  employed  in  reading 
the  adventures  of  imaginary  people,  than  the  Duchess 
of  Marlborough's,  who  passed  the  latter  years  of  her 
life  in  paddling  with  her  will,  and  contriving  schemes  of 
plaguing  some,  and  extracting  praise  from  others,  to  no 
purpose;  eternally  disappointed,  and  eternally  fretting. 
The  active  scenes  are  over  at  my  age.  I  indulge,  with 
all  the  art  I  can,  my  taste  for  reading.  If  I  would  con- 
fine it  to  valuable  books,  they  are  almost  as  rare  as 
valuable  men.  I  must  be  content  with  what  I  can 
find.  As  I  approach  a  second  childhood,  I  endeavour 
to  enter  into  the  pleasures  of  it.  Your  youngest  son 
is,  perhaps,  at  this  very  moment  riding  on  a  poker  with 
great  delight,  not  at  all  regretting  that  it  is  not  a  gold 
one,  and  much  less  wishing  it  an  Arabian  horse,  which 
he  would  not  know  how  to  manage.  I  am  reading  an 
idle  tale,  not  expecting  wit  or  truth  in  it,  and  am  very 
glad  it  is  not  metaphysics  to  puzzle  my  judgment,  or 
history  to  mislead  my  opinion.     He  fortifies  his  health 


.  u/l^^^  ^yru/ieJi/  / 


%/,i;mvLf.thy  S^. 


OT^u/ty.  ^MicJi/'Ai  (y/ r  4//! i/rc^-lmyuz/iy. 


Letters  on  English  Novels  205 

by  exercise  ;  I  calm  my  cares  by  oblivion.  The 
methods  may  appear  low  to  busy  people ;  but,  if  he 
improves  his  strength,  and  I  forget  my  infirmities,  we 
attain  very  desirable  ends." 

The  first  box  of  any  importance  seems  to  have 
arrived  at  the  end  of  September,  1749.  It  contained 
Fielding's  works,  and  Lady  Mary  gives  an  amusing 
testimony  to  the  interest  her  cousin's  novels  had  for  her  : 

''  My  dear  Child, — I  have  at  length  received  the 
box,  with  the  books  enclosed,  for  which  I  give  you 
many  thanks,  as  they  amused  me  very  much.  I  gave 
a  very  ridiculous  proof  of  it,  fitter  indeed  for  my  grand- 
daughter than  myself.  I  returned  from  a  party  on 
horseback;  and  after  having  rode  twenty  miles,  part 
of  it  by  moonshine,  it  was  ten  at  night  when  I  found 
the  box  arrived.  I  could  not  deny  myself  the  pleasure 
of  opening  it ;  and,  falling  upon  Fielding's  works,  was 
fool  enough  to  sit  up  all  night  reading.  I  think  Joseph 
Andrews  better  than  his  Foundling.*  I  believe  I  was 
the  more  struck  with  it,  having  at  present  a  Fanny  in 
my  own  house, t  not  only  by  the  name,  which  happens 
to  be  the  same,  but  the  extraordinary  beauty,  joined 
with  an  understanding  yet  more  extraordinary  at  her 
age,  which  is  but  few  months  past  sixteen  :  she  is  in 
the  post  of  my  chambermaid.  I  fancy  you  will  tax  my 
discretion  for  taking  a  servant  thus  quahfied  ;  but  my 
woman,    who    is    also    my   housekeeper,    was   always 

■^  "  The  Foundling  "  is,  of  course,  "  Tom  Jones." 
f  The  girl's  name  was  Francesca,  generally  called  "  Chechina  " 
by  her  mistress.     She  married  in  1750. 


2o6  Letters  on  English  Novels 

teasing  me  with  her  having  too  much  work,  and  com- 
plaining of  ill-health,  which  determined  me  to  take  her 
a  deputy  ;  and  when  I  was  at  Lovere,  where  I  drank 
the  waters,  one  of  the  most  considerable  m^erchants 
there  pressed  me  to  take  this  daughter  of  his  :  her 
mother  has  an  uncommon  good  character,  and  the  girl 
has  had  a  better  education  than  is  usual  for  those 
of  her  rank ;  she  writes  a  good  hand,  and  has  been 
brought  up  to  keep  accounts,  which  she  does  to  great 
perfection  ;  and  had  herself  such  a  violent  desire  to 
serve  me,  that  I  was  persuaded  to  take  her  :  I  do  not 
yet  repent  it  from  any  part  of  her  behaviour.  But  there 
has  been  no  peace  in  the  family  ever  since  she  came 
into  it ;  I  might  say  the  parish,  all  the  women  in  it 
having  declared  open  war  with  her,  and  the  men 
endeavouring  at  treaties  of  a  different  sort :  my  own 
woman  puts  herself  at  the  head  of  the  first  party,  and 
her  spleen  is  increased  by  having  no  reason  for  it,  the 
young  creature  never  stirring  from  my  apartment, 
always  at  her  needle,  and  never  complaining  of  any- 
thing. You  will  laugh  at  this  tedious  account  of  my 
domestics  (if  you  have  patience  to  read  it  over),  but  I 
have  few  other  subjects  to  talk  of" 

On  later  occasions  she  again  mentions  Fielding, 
knowing  something  of  his  life,  from  his  relationship  to 
her.  He  had  dedicated  his  first  play  to  her,  and  sub- 
mitted his  "  Modern  Husband  "  for  her  approval  and 
criticism. 

We  see  her  knowledge  of  his  ways  in  her  comments 
on  ''Amelia." 


Letters  on  English  Novels  207 

"  H.  Fielding  has  given  a  true  picture  of  himself  and 
his  first  wife,  in  the  characters  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Booth, 
some  compliments  to  his  own  figure  excepted ;  and,  I 
am  persuaded,  several  of  the  incidents  he  mentions  are 
real  matters  of  fact.  I  wonder  he  does  not  perceive 
Tom  Jones  and  Mr.  Booth  are  sorry  scoundrels.  All 
these  sort  of  books  have  the  same  fault,  which  I  cannot 
easily  pardon,  being  very  mischievous.  They  place  a 
merit  in  extravagant  passions,  and  encourage  young 
people  to  hope  for  impossible  events,  to  draw  them  out 
of  the  misery  they  chose  to  plunge  themselves  into, 
expecting  legacies  from  unknown  relations,  and  generous 
benefactors  to  distressed  virtue,  as  much  out  of  nature 
as  fairy  treasures.  Fielding  has  really  a  fund  of  true 
humour,  and  was  to  be  pitied  at  his  first  entrance  into 
the  world,  having  no  choice,  as  he  said  himself,  but  to 
be  a  hackney  writer,  or  a  hackney  coachman.  His 
genius  deserved  a  better  fate  ;  but  I  cannot  help 
blaming  that  continued  indiscretion,  to  give  it  the 
softest  name,  that  has  run  through  his  life,  and  I  am 
afraid  still  remains." 

It  is  rather  curious  to  see  one  who  was  herself  not 
conspicuous  for  her  respect  of  conventionality  inveigh- 
ing against  the  hurtful  tendencies  of  romance.  But  in 
criticising  literary  work  her  estimate  of  its  artistic 
merit  seems  to  have  been  much  at  the  mercy  of  her 
opinion  as  to  the  moral,  social,  or  political  tendency 
of  the  book  to  be  considered.  Thus  she  would  allow 
little  credit  comparatively  to  Pope,  Swift,  or  Boling- 
broke,  having  a  political  bias  against  all  three,  and  a 


2o8  Lettei's  on  Eno/is/i  Novels 


^> 


personal  bias  against  the  tirst  and  perhaps  the  second. 
Of  Fielding  she  only  speaks  again  on  hearing  of  his 
death : 

"  I  am  sorry  for  H.  Fielding^s  death,  not  only  as  I 
shall  read  no  more  of  his  writings,  but  I  believe  he  lost 
more  than  others,  as  no  man  enjoyed  life  more  than 
he  did,  though  few  had  less  reason  to  do  so,  the  highest 
of  his  preferment  being  raking  in  the  lowest  sinks  of 
vice  and  misery.  .  .  .  His  happy  constitution  (even 
when  he  had,  with  great  pains,  half  demolished  it) 
made  him  forget  everything  when  he  was  before  a 
venison  pasty,  or  over  a  flask  of  champagne  ;  and  I  am 
persuaded  he  has  known  more  happy  moments  than 
any  prince  upon  earth.  His  natural  spirits  gave  him 
rapture  with  his  cook-maid,*  and  cheerfulness  in  a 
garret.  There  was  a  great  similitude  between  his 
character  and  that  of  Sir  Richard  Steele.  He  had  the 
advantage  both  in  learning  and,  in  my  opinion,  genius  : 
they  both  agreed  in  wanting  money  in  spite  of  all  their 
friends,  and  would  have  wanted  it,  if  their  hereditary 
lands  had  been  as  extensive  as  their  imagination  ;  yet 
each  of  them  [was]  so  formed  for  happiness,  it  is 
pity  he  was  not  immortal." 

Smollett's  works,  generally  mentioned  now  in  the 
same  breath  with  Fielding's  as  typical  of  the  time, 
came  with  them  in  the  boxes  of  books  looked  for  with 
such  anxiety  at  Lovere.  Lady  Vane's  memoirs,  in- 
serted  in   "  Peregrine   Pickle,"   interested   her,  as   she 

*   Fielding,  after  the  death  of  his  beloved  first  wife,  married  her 
faithful  maid. 


Letters  on  English  Novels  209 

knew  a  good  deal  of  that  lady.  "  Roderick  Random  " 
she  was  inclined  to  attribute  to  Fielding  on  account  of 
its  humour;  but  the  *'  Adventures  of  Ferdinand,  Count 
Fathom,"  she  at  once  pronounced  not  good  enough  to 
ascribe  to  him.  Later  on  she  was  better  informed 
about  the  authorship  of  these  novels^  and  grieves 
over  '*  my  dear  Smollett,  who,  I  am  sorry,  disgraces 
his  talent  by  writing  those  stupid  romances  commonly 
called  history." 

With  ''  Peregrine  Pickle  "  came  a  budget  of  other 
novels  of  the  day,  which  are  now  completely  forgotten. 
^"The  History  of  Charlotte  Summers,  the  Fortunate 
Parish  Girl,"  is  a  title  that  promises  little ;  though 
"  Pompey  the  Little ;  or.  The  Adventures  of  a  Lap- 
Dog,"  might  perhaps  prove  entertaining  now,  if  it  be 
so  faithful  a  representation  of  London  manners  a 
century  and  a  half  ago  as  Lady  Mary  thought  it 
to  be. 

**  The  next  book  I  laid  my  hand  on  was  the  Parish 
Girl,  which  interested  me  enough  not  to  be  able  to 
quit  it  till  it  was  read  over,  though  the  author  has 
fallen  into  the  common  mistake  of  romance-writers ; 
intending  a  virtuous  character,  and  not  knowing  how 
to  draw  it ;  the  first  step  of  his  heroine  (leaving  her 
patroness's  house)  being  altogether  absurd  and  ridicu- 
lous, justly  entitling  her  to  all  the  misfortunes  she  met 
with.  Candles  came  (and  my  eyes  grown  weary),  I 
took  up  the  next  book,  merely  because  I  supposed 
from  the  title  it  could  not  engage  me  long.  It  was 
Pompey  the  Little,  which  has  really  diverted  me  more 

14 


2  I  o  Letters  on  En  owlish  Novels 


^ 


than  any  of  the  others,  and  it  was  impossible  to  go  to 
bed  till  it  was  finished.  It  was  a  real  and  exact  repre- 
sentation of  life,  as  it  is  now  acted  in  London,  as  it 
was  in  my  time,  and  as  it  will  be  (I  do  not  doubt)  a 
hundred  years  hence,  with  some  little  variation  of 
dress,  and  perhaps  government.  I  found  there  many 
of  my  acquaintance.  Lady  T.  and  Lady  O.  are  so 
well  painted,*  I  fancied  I  heard  them  talk,  and  have 
heard  them  say  the  very  things  there  repeated.  I  also 
saw  myself  (as  I  now  am)  in  the  character  of  Mrs. 
Qualmsick.  You  will  be  surprised  at  this,  no  English- 
woman being  so  free  from  vapours,  having  never  in  my 
life  complained  of  low  spirits  or  weak  nerves ;  but  our 
resemblance  is  very  strong  in  the  fancied  loss  of  appe- 
tite, which  I  have  been  silly  enough  to  be  persuaded 
into  by  the  physician  of  this  place.  He  visits  me 
frequently,  as  being  one  of  the  most  considerable  men 
in  the  parish,  and  is  a  grave,  sober  thinking,  great 
fool,  whose  solemn  appearance,  and  deliberate  way  of 
delivering  his  sentiments,  gives  them  an  air  of  good 
sense,  though  they  are  often  the  most  injudicious  that 
ever  were  pronounced.  By  perpetually  telling  me  I 
eat  so  little,  he  is  amazed  I  am  able  to  subsist,  he  had 
brought  me  to  be  of  his  opinion ;  and  I  began  to  be 
seriously  uneasy  at  it.  This  useful  treatise  has  roused 
me  into  a  recollection  of  what  I  eat  3^esterday,  and  do 
almost  every  day  the  same.  I  wake  generally  about 
seven,  and  drink  half  a  pint  of  warm  asses'  milk,  after 

*  In  the  novel,  Lady  T.  {Toi^nshend)  is  named  Lady  Tempest j 
Lady  O.  (Orford)^  Lady  Sophister. 


Letters  on  Enolish  Novels  211 

which  I  sleep  two  hours ;  as  soon  as  I  am  risen,  I  con- 
stantly take  three  cups  of  milk  coffee,  and  two  hours 
after  that  a  large  cup  of  milk  chocolate :  two  hours 
more  brings  my  dinner,  where  I  never  fail  swallowing 
a  good  dish  (I  don't  mean  plate)  of  gravy  soup,  with 
all  the  bread,  roots,  etc.,  belonging  to  it.  I  then  eat 
a  wing  and  the  whole  body  of  a  large  fat  capon,  and 
a  veal  sweetbread,  concluding  with  a  competent  quan- 
tity of  custard,  and  some  roasted  chesnuts.  At  five 
in  the  afternoon  I  take  another  dose  of  asses'  milk  ; 
and  for  supper  twelve  chesnuts  (which  would  weigh 
twenty-four  of  those  in  London),  one  new  laid  ^g'g, 
and  a  handsome  porringer  of  white  bread  and  milk. 
With  this  diet,  notwithstanding  the  menaces  of  my 
wise  doctor,  I  am  now  convinced  I  am  in  no  danger 
of  starving ;  and  am  obliged  to  Little  Pompey  for  this 
discovery." 

We  are  also  obliged  to  "  Pompey  the  Little  "  for  this 
detailed  account  of  Lady  Mary^s  diet,  which  seems 
to  have  been  of  the  substantial  nature  proper  to  her 
nationality.  In  the  long  letter  of  which  this  is  a  part, 
after  giving  judgment  on  several  novels  in  which  even 
her  tolerance  could  find  no  merit,  she  suddenly  breaks 
off  to  excuse  herself  from  her  daughter's  anticipated 
objection. 

"  I  fancy  3^ou  are  now  saying,  'tis  a  sad  thing  to 
grow  old ;  what  does  my  poor  mamma  mean  by 
troubling  me  with  criticisms  on  books  that  nobody 
but  herself  will  ever  read  ?  You  must  allow  some- 
thing to   my  solitude.     I   have  a  pleasure   in  writing 

14 — 2 


212  Letters  on  English  Novels 

to  my  dear  child,  and  not  many  subjects  to  write  upon. 
The  adventures  of  people  here  would  not  at  all  amuse 
you,  having  no  acquaintance  with  the  persons  con- 
cerned ;  and  an  account  of  myself  would  hardly  gain 
credit,  after  having  fairly  owned  to  you  how  deplorably 
I  was  misled  in  regard  to  my  own  health  ;  though  I 
have  all  my  life  been  on  my  guard  against  the  informa- 
tion by  the  sense  of  hearing  ;  it  being  one  of  my  earliest 
observations,  the  universal  inclination  of  human-kind 
is  to  be  led  by  the  ears ;  and  I  am  sometimes  apt  to 
imagine,  that  they  are  given  to  men,  as  they  are  to 
pitchers,  purposely  that  they  may  be  carried  about  by 
them.  This  consideration  should  abate  my  wonder  to 
see  (as  I  do  here)  the  most  astonishing  legends  em- 
braced as  the  most  sacred  truths,  by  those  who  have 
always  heard  them  asserted,  and  never  contradicted ; 
they  even  place  a  merit  in  complying  in  direct  oppo- 
sition to  the  evidence  of  all  their  other  senses." 

It  is  amusing  to  notice  her  reference  to  the  first 
appearance  of  the  future  "  Great  Cham  "  of  literature, 
not  yet  made  known  by  his  Dictionary.  Certainly  no 
one  could  be  less  of  a  wanderer  than  the  "  Rambler." 

''  The  Rambler  is  certainly  a  strong  misnomer ;  he 
always  plods  in  the  beaten  road  of  his  predecessors, 
following  the  '  Spectator  '  (with  the  same  pace  a  pack- 
horse  would  do  a  hunter)  in  the  style  that  is  proper  to 
lengthen  a  paper.  These  writers  may,  perhaps,  be  of 
service  to  the  public,  w^hich  is  saying  a  great  deal  in 
their  favour.  There  are  numbers  of  both  sexes  who 
never  read  anything  but  such  productions,  and  cannot 


Letters  on  English  Novels  213 

spare  time,  from  doing  nothing,  to  go  through  a  six- 
penny pamphlet.  Such  gentle  readers  may  be  im- 
proved by  a  moral  hint,  which,  though  repeated  over 
and  over  from  generation  to  generation,  they  never 
heard  in  their  lives.  I  should  be  glad  to  know  the 
name  of  this  laborious  author." 

Lord  Orrery's  ''  Remarks  on  the  Life  and  Writings  of 
Swift  "  gave  Lady  Mary  an  opportunity  of  giving  her 
opinion  on  Pope  and  Swift,  as  well  as  his  lordship, 
whose  "  family  have  been  smatterers  in  wit  and  learn- 
ing for  three  generations,"  his  father  having  been  the 
Boyle  of  the  Phalaris  dispute.  It  is  curious  to  see  her 
attacking  the  Dean's  irreverence  and  cynicism  on  the 
same  strictly  utilitarian  grounds  as  he  himself  defended 
rehgion — half  ironically — against  the  infidel  wits  of  the 
time : 

'*  Nobody  can  deny  but  religion  is  a  comfort  to  the 
distressed,  a  cordial  to  the  sick,  and  sometimes  a 
restraint  on  the  wicked  ;  therefore,  whoever  would 
argue  or  laugh  it  out  of  the  world,  without  giving  some 
equivalent  for  it,  ought  to  be  treated  as  a  common 
enemy  :  but,  when  this  language  comes  from  a  Church- 
man, who  enjoys  large  benefices  and  dignities  from 
that  very  Church  he  openly  despises,  it  is  an  object  of 
horror  for  which  I  want  a  name,  and  can  only  be 
excused  by  madness,  which  I  think  the  Dean  was 
strongly  touched  with.  His  character  seems  to  me  a 
parallel  with  that  of  Caligula  ;  and  had  he  had  the 
same  power,  would  have  made  the  same  use  of  it. 
That   Emperor  erected  a  temple  to  himself,  where  he 


2i.[  Lett 67^3  on  English  Novels 

was  his  own  high  priest,  preferred  his  horse  to  the 
highest  honours  in  the  state,  professed  enmit}'  to  [the] 
human  race,  and  at  last  lost  his  life  by  a  nast}-  jest  on 
one  of  his  inferiors,  which  I  dare  swear  Swift  would 
have  made  in  his  place.  There  can  be  no  worse 
picture  made  of  the  Doctor's  morals  than  he  has  given 
us  himself  in  the  letters  printed  by  Pope.  We  see  him 
vain,  trifling,  ungrateful  to  the  memory  of  his  patron, 
the  E.  [Earl]  of  Oxford,  making  a  servile  court  where 
he  had  any  interested  views,  and  meanl}-  abusive  when 
they  were  disappointed,  and,  as  he  says  (in  his  own 
phrase),  flying  in  the  face  of  mankind,  in  company  with 
his  adorer  Pope.  It  is  pleasant  to  consider,  that,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  good  nature  of  these  very  mortals 
they  contemn,  these  two  superior  beings  were  entitled, 
by  their  birth  and  hereditary  fortune,  to  be  only  a 
couple  of  link-boys.  I  am  of  opinion  their  friendship 
would  have  continued,  though  they  had  remained  in 
the  same  kingdom  :  it  had  a  very  strong  foundation — 
the  love  of  flattery  on  the  one  side,  and  the  love  of 
money  on  the  other."J 

And  she  goes  on  to  charge  Pope  with  lying  in  wait 
for  the  inheritances  of  all  his  friends.  Deeply  as  he 
had  injured  her,  it  is  hardly  pleasant  to  find  her  feeling 
against  him  so  strong  so  many  years  after  his  death. 

We  also  find  her  again  referring  bitterly  to  Swift, 
contrasting  him  with  her  old  friend  Burnet : 

''  Doctor  Swift,  who  set  at  defiance  all  decency,  truth, 
or  reason,  had  a  crowd  of  admirers,  and  at  their  head 
the  virtuous  and   ingenious  Earl  of  Orrery,  the  polite 


•^o-uA.^tAjc/ri.'ceAy.  J-c/. 


^U-e.a/ru  ^l^Mi^^, 


Letters  on  English  Novels  2  1 5 

and  learned  Mr.  Greville,  with  a  number  of  ladies  of 
fine  taste  and  unblemished  characters  ;  while  the  Bishop 
of  Salisbury  (Burnet,  I  mean),  the  most  indulgent  parent, 
the  most  generous  Churchman,  and  the  most  zealous 
assertor  of  the  rights  and  liberties  of  his  country,  was 
all  his  life  defamed  and  vilified,  and  after  his  death  most 
barbarously  calumniated,  for  having  had  the  courage  to 
write  a  history  without  flattery.  I  knew  him  in  my 
very  early  youth,  and  his  condescension  in  directing  a 
girl  in  her  studies  is  an  obligation  I  can  never  forget." 

BoHngbroke  (though  his  "  Idea  of  a  Patriot  King"  is 
said  to  have  been  the  model  on  which  Lord  Bute 
helped  to  instruct  the  young  Prince  of  Wales)  came  in 
for  worse  treatment  still — though  here  there  was  no  hint 
of  personal  animosity,  Lady  Mary  not  having  known 
him,  and  his  later  da)s  having  been  employed  in  attack- 
ing Walpole,  much  as  her  own  husband  had  done.  Here, 
again,  it  is  singular  to  find  her  including  Madame  de 
Sevigne  in  her  condemnation  of  diffuse  writers: 

f"  I  shall  begin,  in  respect  to  his  dignity,  with  Lord  B. 
[Bolingbroke] ,  who  is  a  glaring  proof  how  far  vanity 
may  bhnd  a  man,  and  how  easy  it  is  to  varnish  over 
to  one's  self  the  most  criminal  conduct.  He  declares 
he  always  loved  his  country,  though  he  confesses  he 
endeavoured  to  betray  her  to  popery  and  slavery ;  and 
loved  his  friends,  though  he  abandoned  them  in  distress, 
with  all  the  blackest  circumstances  of  treachery  His 
account  of  the  Peace  of  Utrecht  is  almost  equally 
unfair  or  partial  ;'*^  I  shall  allow  that,  perhaps,  the 
"•   In  his  "  Letters  on  the  Study  of  History."' 


2i6  Letters  on  English  Novels 

views  of  the  Whigs,  at  that  time,  were  too  vast,  and 
the  nation,  dazzled  by  militar}'  glory,  had  hopes  too 
sanguine  ;  but  sure  the  same  terms  that  the  French 
consented  to,  at  the  treaty  of  Gertruydenberg,  might 
have  been  obtained  ;  or  if  the  displacing  of  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough  raised  the  spirits  of  our  enemies  to  a 
degree  of  refusing  what  they  had  before  offered,  how 
can  he  excuse  the  guilt  of  removing  him  from  the  head 
of  a  victorious  army,  and  exposing  us  to  submit  to  any 
articles  of  peace,  being  unable  to  continue  the  war  ? 
I  agree  with  him,  that  the  idea  of  conquering  France 
is  a  wild,  extravagant  notion,  and  would,  if  possible,  be 
impolitic  ;  but  she  might  have  been  reduced  to  such  a 
state  as  would  have  rendered  her  incapable  of  being 
terrible  to  her  neighbours  for  some  ages  :  nor  should  we 
have  been  obliged,  as  we  have  done  almost  ever  since, 
to  bribe  the  French  ministers  to  let  us  live  in  quiet. 
So  much  for  his  political  reasonings,  which,  I  confess, 
are  delivered  in  a  florid,  easy  style ;  but  I  cannot  be 
of  Lord  Orrery's  opinion,  that  he  is  one  of  the  best 
English  writers.  Well-turned  periods  or  smooth  lines 
are  not  the  perfection  either  of  prose  or  verse ;  they 
may  serve  to  adorn,  but  can  never  stand  in  the  place 
of  good  sense.  Copiousness  of  words,  however  ranged, 
is  always  false  eloquence,  though  it  will  ever  impose 
on  some  sort  of  understandings.  How  many  readers 
and  admirers  has  Madame  de  Sevigne,  who  only  gives 
us,  in  a  lively  manner  and  fashionable  phrases,  mean 
sentiments,  vulgar  prejudices,  and  endless  repetitions  ? 
Sometimes  the  tittle-tattle  of  a   fine   ladv,  sometimes 


Letters  on   Evglish  Novels  217 

that  of  an  old  nurse,  always  tittle-tattle  ;  yet  so  well 
gilt  over  by  airy  expressions,  and  a  flowing  style,  she 
will  always  please  the  same  people  to  whom  Lord 
Bolingbroke  will  shine  as  a  first-rate  author.  She  is  so 
far  to  be  excused,  as  her  letters  were  not  intended  for 
the  press ;  while  he  labours  to  display  to  posterity  all 
the  wit  and  learning  he  is  master  of,  and  sometimes 
spoils  a  good  argument  by  a  profusion  of  words, 
running  out  into  several  pages  a  thought  that  might 
have  been  more  clearly  expressed  in  a  few  lines,  and, 
what  is  worse,  often  falls  into  contradiction  and 
repetitions,  which  are  almost  unavoidable  to  all 
voluminous  writers,  and  can  only  be  forgiven  to  those 
retailers  whose  necessity  compels  them  to  diurnal 
scribbling,  who  load  their  meaning  with  epithets,  and 
run  into  digressions,  because  (in  the  jockey  phrase)  it 
rids  the  ground,  that  is,  covers  a  certain  quantity  of 
paper,  to  answer  the  demand  of  the  day.  A  great  part 
of  Lord  B.'s  letters  are  designed  to  show  his  reading, 
which,  indeed,  appears  to  have  been  very  extensive  ; 
but  I  cannot  perceive  that  such  a  minute  account  of  it 
can  be  of  any  use  to  the  pupil  he  pretends  to  instruct  ; 
nor  can  I  help  thinking  he  is  far  below  either  Tillotson 
or  Addison,  even  in  style,  though  the  latter  was  some- 
times more  diffuse  than  his  judgment  approved,  to 
furnish  out  the  length  of  a  daily  '  Spectator.'  I  own  I 
have  small  regard  for  Lord  B.  as  an  author,  and  the 
highest  contempt  for  him  as  a  man.  He  came  into 
the  world  greatly  favoured  both  by  nature  and  fortune, 
blest  with  a  noble  birth,  heir  to  a  large  estate,  endowed 


2i8  Letters  on  B7ie-/is/i  Novels 


«i> 


with  a  strong  constitution,  and,  as  I  have  heard,  a 
beautiful  figure,  high  spirits,  a  good  memory,  and  a 
Hvely  apprehension,  which  was  cultivated  by  a  learned 
education  :  all  these  glorious  advantages  being  left  to 
the  direction  of  a  judgment  stifled  by  unbounded  vanity, 
he  dishonoured  his  birth,  lost  his  estate,  ruined  his 
reputation,  and  destroyed  his  health,  by  a  wild  pursuit 
of  eminence  even  in  vice  and  trifles. . 

''  I  am  far  from  making  misfortune  a  matter  of 
reproach.  I  know  there  are  accidental  occurrences 
not  to  be  foreseen  or  avoided  by  human  prudence,  by 
which  a  character  may  be  injured,  wealth  dissipated, 
or  a  constitution  impaired  :  but  I  think  1  may  reasonably 
despise  the  understanding  of  one  who  conducts  himself 
in  such  a  manner  as  naturally  produces  such  lamentable 
consequences,  and  continues  in  the  same  destructive 
paths  to  the  end  of  a  long  life,  ostentatiously  boasting 
of  morals  and  philosophy  in  print,  and  with  equal 
ostentation  bragging  of  the  scenes  of  low  debauchery 
in  public  conversation,  though  deplorably  weak  both 
in  mind  and  body,  and  his  virtue  and  his  vigour  in  a 
state  of  non-existence.  His  confederacy  with  Swift  and 
Pope  puts  me  in  mind  of  that  of  Bessus  and  his  sword- 
men,  in  the  '  King  and  no  King,'  who  endeavour  to 
support  themselves  by  giving  certificates  of  each  other's 
merit.  Pope  has  triumphantly  declared  that  they  may 
do  and  say  whatever  silly  things  they  please,  they  will 
still  be  the  greatest  geniuses  nature  ever  exhibited.  I 
am  delighted  with  the  comparison  given  of  their 
benevolence,  which  is   indeed  most  aptly  figured  by  a 


Letters  on  English  Novels  2  1 9 

circle  in  the  water,  which  widens  till  it  comes  to  nothing 
at  all ;  but  I  am  provoked  at  Lord  B.'s  misrepresenta- 
tion of  my  favourite  Atticus,  who  seems  to  have  been 
the  only  Roman  that,  from  good  sense,  had  a  true 
notion  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived,  in  which  the 
republic  was  inevitably  perishing,  and  the  two  factions, 
who  pretended  to  support  it,  equally  endeavouring  to 
gratify  their  ambition  in  its  ruin.  A  wise  man,  in  that 
case,  would  certainly  declare  for  neither,  and  try  to  save 
himself  and  family  from  the  general  wreck,  which  could 
not  be  done  but  by  a  superiority  of  understanding 
acknowledged  on  both  sides.  I  see  no  glory  in  losing 
life  or  fortune  by  being  the  dupe  of  either,  and  very 
much  applaud  that  conduct  which  could  preserve  an 
universal  esteem  amidst  the  fury  of  opposite  parties. 
We  are  obliged  to  act  vigorously,  where  action  can  do 
any  good  ;  but  in  a  storm,  when  it  is  impossible  to 
work  with  success,  the  best  hands  and  ablest  pilots 
may  laudably  gain  the  shore  if  they  can.  Atticus  could 
be  a  friend  to  men  without  engaging  in  their  passions, 
disapprove  their  maxims  without  awaking  their  resent- 
ment, and  be  satisfied  with  his  own  virtue  without 
seeking  popular  fame  :  he  had  the  reward  of  his  wisdom 
in  his  tranquillity,  and  will  ever  stand  among  the  few 
examples  of  true  philosophy,  either  ancient  or  modern." 

The  mention  of  Atticus  naturally  leads  to  another 
diatribe  against  Pope  for  his  virulent  attack  on  Addison 
under  that  name. 

In  a  later  letter  to  Lady  Bute,  Bolingbroke  again 
suffers  for  his  affectation  of  universal  knowledge  : 


2  20  Letters    on  E^iglish  Novels 

''  I  am  flattered  by  finding  that  our  sentiments  are 
the  same  in  regard  to  Lord  Bohngbroke's  writings,  as 
you  will  see  more  clearly,  if  you  ever  have  the  long  letter 
I  have  wrote  to  you  on  that  subject.  I  believe  he  never 
read  Horace,  or  any  other  author,  with  a  design  of  in- 
structing himself,  thinking  he  was  born  to  give  precepts, 
and  not  to  follow  them  :  at  least,  if  he  was  not  mad 
enough  to  have  this  opinion,  he  endeavoured  to  impose 
it  on  the  rest  of  the  world.  All  his  works,  being  well 
considered,  are  little  more  than  a  panegyric  on  his  own 
universal  genius  ;  many  of  his  pretensions  as  preposter- 
ously inconsistent  as  if  Sir  Isaac  Newton  had  aimed  at 
being  a  critic  in  fashions,  and  wrote  for  the  information 
of  tailors  and  mantua-makers.  I  am  of  your  opinion 
that  he  never  looked  into  half  the  authors  he  quotes, 
and  am  much  mistaken  if  he  is  not  obliged  to  Mr.  Bayle 
for  the  generality  of  his  criticisms  ;  for  which  reason  he 
affects  to  despise  him,  that  he  may  steal  from  him  with 
less  suspicion.  A  diffusive  style  (though  often  admired 
as  florid  by  all  half-witted  readers)  is  commonly  obscure, 
and  always  trifling.  Horace  has  told  us,  that  where 
words  abound,  sense  is  thinly  spread  :  as  trees  over- 
charged with  leaves  bear  little  fruit." 

But  the  author  of  whom  Lady  Mary  has  most  to  say 
is  Richardson.  She  seems  to  have  been  in  a  constant 
state  of  uncertainty  about  him,  alternately  attracted 
by  his  pathos  and  repelled  by  his  many  defects. 
Especially  severe  was  she  on  his  painting  of  high  life 
and  polite  society,  of  which  his  knowledge  could  not 
but  be  imperfect ;  and  it  is  well  to  note  this  criticism 


/■ 


i^:r.j!UdM.Jc-. 


Letters  on   Engtish  Novels  221 

when  we  find  authors  of  to-day,  especially  (as  is 
natural)  foreigners  like  M.  Taine,  taking  Richardson's 
lapses  into  vulgarity  as  t3^pical  of  the  English  society 
of  the  time.  Perhaps  the  proverbial  New  Zealander, 
grubbing  among  the  rubbish  of  some  circulating  library, 
will  credit  our  highly  uninteresting  and,  for  the  most 
part,  desperately  respectable  peerage  with  the  personal 
beauty  and  moral  deficiencies  of  Greek  gods. 

**  Pamela,"  Richardson's  first  great  success.  Lady 
Mary  had  met  with  abroad,  and  hence  did  not  desire 
to  have  it  sent  to  her  at  Lovere.  As  she  writes  to  her 
daughter,  who  had  mentioned  a  list  of  novels : 

('"  All  the  other  books  would  be  new  to  me  excepting 
*  Pamela,'  which  has  met  with  very  extraordinary  (and 
I  think  undeserved)  success.  It  has  been  translated 
into  French  and  into  Italian  ;  it  was  all  the  fashion  at 
Paris  and  Versailles,  and  is  still  the  joy  of  the  chamber- 
maids of  all  nations." ,; 

And  her  judgment  of  *'  Clarissa  Harlowe  "  is  the 
sharper,  one  may  imagine,  from  the  fact  that  she  had 
been  unable  to  resist  the  pathos  of  the  ending  : 

**  I  was  such  an  old  fool  as  to  weep  over  *  Clarissa 
Harlowe,'  like  any  milkmaid  of  sixteen  over  the  ballad 
of  the  Lady's  Fall.  To  say  truth,  the  first  volume 
softened  me  by  a  near  resemblance  of  my  maiden  days ; 
but  on  the  whole  'tis  most  miserable  stuff.  Miss  How, 
who  is  called  a  young  lady  of  sense  and  honour,  is 
not  only  extreme  silly,  but  a  more  vicious  character 
than  Sally  Martin,  whose  crimes  are  owing  at  first 
to  seduction,  and  afterwards  to  necessity  ;  while  this 


2  22  Letters  on  English  Novels 

virtuous  damsel,  without  any  reason,  insults  her  mother 
at  home  and  ridicules  her  abroad  ;  abuses  the  man  she 
marries  ;  and  is  impertinent  and  impudent  with  great 
applause.  Even  that  model  of  affection,  Clarissa,  is 
so  faulty  in  her  behaviour  as  to  deserve  little  com- 
passion. Any  girl  that  runs  away  with  a  young  fellow, 
without  intending  to  marry  him,  should  be  carried  to 
Bridewell  or  to  Bedlam  the  next  day.  Yet  the  cir- 
cumstances are  so  laid,  as  to  inspire  tenderness, 
notwithstanding  the  low  style  and  absurd  incidents  ; 
and  I  look  upon  this  and  '  Pamela '  to  be  two  books 
that  will  do  more  general  mischief  than  the  works  of 
Lord  Rochester."* 

Again,  when  the  ponderous  volumes  of  "Sir  Charles 
Grandison  "  arrived,  the  same  experience  was  re- 
peated : 

"  This  Richardson  is  a  strange  fellow.  I  heartily 
despise  him,  and  eagerly  read  him,  nay,  sob  over  his 
works  in  a  most  scandalous  manner.  The  two  first 
tomes  of  Clarissa  touched  me,  as  being  very  re- 
sembling to  my  maiden  days ;  and  I  find  in  the 
pictures  of  Sir  Thomas  Grandison  and  his  lady,  what 
I  have  heard  of  my  mother,  and  seen  of  my  father." 

But  after  the  first  impression  wears  off,  she  falls 
on  him  again  with  even  more  asperity  than  before^ 
especially  as  he  had  rashly  ventured  on  pictures  of 
Italian  life,  of  which  he  was  more  ignorant  than  of  the 

■*'  Lord  Rochester,  one  of  the  most  dissipated  of  Charles  II.'s 
courtiers,  was  notorious  for  the  indecency  of  his  poems. 


Letters  on  English  Novels  22 


v3 


ways  of  English  "  high  Hfe,"  and  of  which  she  had 
enjoyed  abundant  experience. 

"  I  have  now  read  over  Richardson  —  he  sinks 
horribly  in  his  third  volume*  (he  does  so  in  his 
story  of  Clarissa).  When  he  talks  of  Italy,  it  is  plain 
he  is  no  better  acquainted  with  it  than  he  is  with  the 
kingdom  of  Mancomugi.  He  might  have  made  his  Sir 
Charles's  amour  with  Clementina  begin  in  a  convent, 
where  the  pensioners  sometimes  take  great  liberties ; 
but  that  such  familiarity  should  be  permitted  in  her 
father's  house,  is  as  repugnant  to  custom,  as  it  would 
be  in  London  for  a  young  lady  of  quality  to  dance  on 
the  ropes  at  Bartholomew  fair :  neither  does  his  hero 
behave  to  her  in  a  manner  suitable  to  his  nice  notions. 
It  was  impossible  a  discerning  man  should  not  see  her 
passion  early  enough  to  check  it,  if  he  had  really 
designed  it.  His  conduct  puts  me  in  mind  of  some 
ladies  I  have  known,  who  could  never  find  out  a  man 
to  be  in  love  with  them,  let  him  do  or  say  what  he 
would,  till  he  made  a  direct  attempt,  and  then  they 
were  so  surprised,  I  warrant  you  !  Nor  do  I  approve 
Sir  Charles's  offered  compromise  (as  he  calls  it).  There 
must  be  a  great  indifference  as  to  religion  on  both 
sides,  to  make  so  strict  a  union  as  marriage  tolerable 
between  people  of  such  distinct  persuasions.  He 
seems  to  think  women  have  no  souls,  by  agreeing  so 
easily  that  his  daughters  should  be  educated  in  bigotry 
and  idolatry." 

At  which  point,  like  a  good  Protestant,  Lady  Mary 
*  "  Sir  Charles  Grandison"  is  the  work  referred  to. 


2  24  Letters  oji  English  Novels 

goes  off  at  a  tangent  into  theological  controversy,  and 
deserts  Richardson  for  several  pages.  But  she  has 
not  done  with  him  yet,  and  falls  on  his  inaccuracies 
with  redoubled  vigour : 

"  Richardson  is  as  ignorant  in  morality  as  he  is  in 
anatomy,  when  he  declares  abusing  an  obliging  husband, 
or  an  indulgent  parent,  to  be  an  innocent  recreation. 
His  Anna  How  and  Charlotte  Grandison  are  recom- 
mended as  patterns  of  charming  pleasantry,  and  ap- 
plauded by  his  saint-like  dames,  who  mistake  pert 
folly  for  wit  and  humour,  and  impudence  and  ill  nature 
for  spirit  and  fire.  Charlotte  behaves  like  a  humor- 
some  child,  and  should  have  been  used  like  one,  and 
well  whipped  in  the  presence  of  her  friendly  confi- 
dante Harriet.  .  .  .  Charlotte  acts  with  an  ingratitude 
that  I  think  too  black  for  human  nature,  with  such 
coarse  jokes  and  low  expressions  as  are  only  to  be 
heard  among  the  lowest  class  of  people.  ...  I  do  not 
forgive  him  his  disrespect  of  old  china,  which  is  below 
nobody's  taste,  since  it  has  been  the  D.  of  Argyll's, 
whose  understanding  has  never  been  doubted  either  by 
his  friends  or  enemies. 

"  Richardson  never  had  probably  money  enough  to 
purchase  any,  or  even  a  ticket  for  a  masquerade,  which 
gives  him  such  an  aversion  to  them ;  though  his  in- 
tended satire  against  them  is  very  absurd  on  the 
account  of  his  Harriet,  since  she  might  have  been 
carried  off  in  the  same  manner  if  she  had  been  going 
from  supper  with  her  grandmamma.  Her  whole  be- 
haviour, which  he  designs  to  be  exemplary,  is  equally 


Letters  on  English  Novels  225 

blamable  and  ridiculous.  She  follows  the  maxim  of 
Clarissa,  of  declaring  all  she  thinks  to  all  the  people 
she  sees,  without  reflecting  that  in  this  mortal  state 
of  imperfection,  fig-leaves  are  as  necessary  for  our 
minds  as  our  bodies.  He  has  no  idea  of  the  manners 
of  high  life :  his  old  Lord  M.  talks  in  the  style  of  a 
country  justice,  and  his  virtuous  young  ladies  romp 
Hke  the  wenches  round  a  May-pole." 

The  general  tendency  of  the  novels  of  the  time 
towards  democracy  did  not  go  unnoticed,  and  Lady 
Mary  stated  her  views  on  the  question  with  consider- 
able freedom.  Whether  she  w^as  right  in  attaching 
so  much  importance  to  the  evidence  of  novels  may 
reasonably  be  doubted. 

"  The  confounding  of  all  ranks,  and  making  a  jest 
of  order,  has  long  been  growing  in  England  ;  and  I 
perceive,  by  the  books  you  sent  me,  has  made  a  very 
considerable  progress.  The  heroes  and  heroines  of 
the  age  are  cobblers  and  kitchen  wenches.  Perhaps 
you  will  say,  I  should  not  take  my  ideas  of  the  manners 
of  the  times  from  such  trifling  authors ;  but  it  is  more 
truly  to  be  found  among  them, than  from  any  historian: 
as  they  write  merely  to  get  money,  they  always  fall 
into  the  notions  that  are  most  acceptable  to  the  present 
taste.  It  has  long  been  the  endeavour  of  our  English 
writers  to  represent  people  of  quality  as  the  vilest  and 
silliest  part  of  the  nation,  being  (generally)  very  low- 
born themselves.  I  am  not  surprised  at  their  pro- 
pagating this  doctrine;  but  I  am  much  mistaken  if  this 
levelling  principle   does  not,  one   day  or  other,  break 

15 


2  26  Letters  on  Enorlish  Novels 


b 


out  in  fatal  consequences  to  the  public,  as  it  has  already 
done  in  many  private  families.  You  will  think  I  am 
influenced  by  living  under  an  aristocratic  government, 
where  distinction  of  rank  is  carried  to  a  very  great 
height ;  but  I  can  assure  you  my  opinion  is  founded 
on  reflection  and  experience,  and  I  wish  to  God  I  had 
always  thought  in  the  same  manner  ;  though  I  had 
ever  the  utmost  contempt  for  misalliances,  yet  the 
silly  prejudices  of  my  education  had  taught  me  to 
believe  I  was  to  treat  nobody  as  an  inferior,  and  that 
poverty  was  a  degree  of  merit :  this  imaginary  humility 
has  made  me  admit  many  familiar  acquaintances,  of 
which  I  have  heartily  repented  every  one,  and  the 
greatest  examples  I  have  known  of  honour  and  in- 
tegrity have  been  among  those  of  the  highest  birth 
and  fortunes.  There  are  many  reasons  why  it  should 
be  so,  which  I  will  not  trouble  you  with.  If  my  letter 
was  to  be  published,  I  know  I  should  be  railed  at  for 
pride,  and  called  an  enemy  of  the  poor ;  but  I  take  a 
pleasure  in  telling  you  my  thoughts." 


Thotiglits  on  Education  227 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THOUGHTS    ON    EDUCATION 

Lady  Mary's  Interest  in  her  Grandchildren — Lady  Bute's  Happiness 
— Affectionate  Feehngs — Education  of  Girls — Virtues  overstrained 
become  Vices— Parents  must  be  prepared  for  Disappointments — 
Beauty  not  to  be  undervalued— Children  never  to  be  deceived — 
Adv^antages  of  Reading — Lady  Mary  Stuart— Benefits  of  a  Taste 
for  Learning — Girls  should  read  English  Poetry — A  Plagiarist 
detected — Ladies  must  conceal  their  Learning — True  Knowledge 
begets  Modesty — Sewing  and  Drawing — The  Risks  of  Marriage 
—Learning  a  Means  of  occupying  Time— Bad  Education  usually 
given  to  Girls — Ignorance  leads  to  Misconduct — Childhood  of 
Lady  Bute — Social  Life  necessary  — Misleading  Effects  of  Books 
— Richardson  again — An  Italian  Pamela — The  Signora  Diana — 
The  Young  Octavia — \  Beautiful  Servant — Count  Sosi's  Court- 
ship—Octavia's  Return— An  Offer  of  Marriage —Count  Sosi 
marries  Octavia— Her  Discreet  Behaviour — Another  Heroine  for 
Richardson — The  Marchesa  Bentivoglio — Her  Pride — She  leaves 
her  Husband — Supposed  Attempt  to  poison  Her — Her  Husband 
suspected — Sir  John  Rawdon  and  his  Peerage — His  Patience 
under  Insult— Sir  Charles  Hanbury  Williams — Lessons  from  his 
Career — Economy  advisable  in  Individuals  and  Nations— English 
Public  Extravagance — A  Policy  of  Trade  the  best — Lady  Mary's 
Views  on  Foreign  Policy — War  and  Progress. 

Among  the  subjects  which  employed  the  pen  of  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu  in  her  seclusion  at  Lovere, 
none  seems  to  have  been  nearer  to  her  heart  than  the 

15—2 


2  28  ThougJits  on  Education 

education  of  her  grandchildren.  Though  she  never 
saw  most  of  them  (her  daughter  having  been  married 
in  1736),  she  often  sent  them  httle  presents,  inquired 
after  them,  and  gave  Lady  Bute  advice  as  to  managing 
them.  ''  I  sympathize  with  you,  my  dear  child,"  Lady 
Mary  wrote,  ''  in  all  the  concern  you  express  for  your 
family  ;  you  may  remember,  I  represented  it  to  you 
before  you  were  married  ;  but  that  is  one  of  the  senti- 
ments it  is  impossible  to  comprehend  till  it  is  felt.  A 
mother  only  knows  a  mother's  fondness.  Indeed,  the 
pain  so  overbalances  the  pleasure,  that  I  believe,  if  it 
could  be  thoroughly  understood,  there  would  be  no 
mothers  at  all.  However,  take  care  that  your  anxiety 
for  the  future  does  not  take  from  you  the  comforts  you 
may  enjoy  in  the  present  hour  ;  it  is  all  that  is  properly 
ours  ;  and  yet  such  is  the  weakness  of  humanity,  we 
commonly  lose  what  is,  either  by  regretting  the  past, 
or  by  disturbing  our  minds  with  the  fear  of  what  may 
be.  You  have  many  blessings  :  a  husband  you  love, 
and  who  behaves  well  to  you  ;  agreeable,  hopeful 
children  ;  a  handsome,  convenient  house,  w^ith  pleasant 
gardens,  in  a  good  air  and  fine  situation  ;  which  I 
place  among  the  most  solid  satisfactions  of  life.  The 
truest  wisdom  is  that  which  diminishes  to  us  what  is 
displeasing;  and  turns  our  thoughts  to  the  advantages 
we  possess.  I  can  assure  you  I  give  no  precepts  I  do 
not  daily  practise.  How  often  do  I  fancy  to  myself 
the  pleasure  I  should  take  in  seeing  you  in  the  midst 
of  N'our  little  people :  and  how  severe  do  I  then  think 
my  destiny,   that    denies   me  that   happiness.       I  en- 


Thoughts  on  Education  229 

deavour  to  comfort  myself  by  reflecting  that  we  should 
certainly  have  perpetual  disputes  (if  not  quarrels)  con- 
cerning the  management  of  them  ;  the  affection  of  a 
grandmother  has  generally  a  tincture  of  dotage  :  you 
would  say  I  spoilt  them,  and  perhaps  be  not  much  in 
the  wrong." 

This  tenderness  towards  her  grandchildren  breaks  out 
in  a  later  letter  from  Venice,  in  answer  to  one  in  which 
Lad}^  Bute  described  her  family  circle : 

"  I  am  so  highly  delighted  with  this,  dated  August  4, 
giving  an  account  of  your  little  colony,  I  cannot  help 
setting  pen  to  paper,  to  tell  you  the  melancholy  joy  I 
had  in  reading  it.  You  would  have  laughed  to  see  the 
old  fool  weep  over  it.  I  now  find  that  age,  when  it 
does  not  harden  the  heart  and  sour  the  temper,  naturally 
returns  to  the  milky  disposition  of  infancy.  Time  has 
the  same  effect  on  the  mind  as  on  the  face.  The  pre- 
dominant passion,  the  strongest  feature,  become  more 
conspicuous  from  the  others  retiring  ;  the  various  views 
of  life  are  abandoned,  from  want  of  ability  to  pursue 
them,  as  the  fine  complexion  is  lost  in  wrinkles ;  but,  as 
surely  as  a  large  nose  grows  larger,  and  a  wide  mouth 
wider,  the  tender  child  in  your  nursery  will  be  a  tender 
old  woman,  though,  perhaps,  reason  may  have  restrained 
the  appearance  of  it,  till  the  mind,  relaxed,  is  no  longer 
capable  of  concealing  its  weakness  ;  for  weakness  it  is 
to  indulge  any  attachment  at  a  period  of  life  when  we 
are  sure  to  part  with  life  itself,  at  a  very  short  warning. 
According  to  the  good  English  proverb,  young  people 
may  die,  but  old  must.     You  see  I  am  very  industrious 


230  ThoiigJits  on  Education 

in  finding  comfort  to  myself  in  my  exile,  and  to  guard, 
as  long  as  I  can,  against  the  peevishness  which  makes 
age  miserable  in  itself  and  contemptible  to  others." 

Lady  Bute  seems  to  have  asked  her  mother's  advice 
as  to  how  to  bring  up  her  rather  numerous  family  ; 
and  Lady  Mary  was  ready  enough  to  help.  As  in 
other  matters,  her  notions  on  this  subject  are  full  of  the 
clear  but  cold  common  sense  which  is  one  of  her  most 
striking  characteristics.  Especially  noteworthy  is  the 
stoical  recommendation  to  repress  maternal  anxiety 
and  tenderness,  and  prepare  for  the  inevitable  dis- 
appointments of  a  large  family.  Doubtless  she  was 
thinking  of  the  great  sorrow  of  her  life — -the  worthless- 
ness  of  her  son. 

"  People  commonly  educate  their  children  as  they 
build  their  houses,  according  to  some  plan  they  think 
beautiful,  without  considering  whether  it  is  suited  to 
the  purposes  for  which  they  are  designed.  Almost  all 
girls  of  quality  are  educated  as  if  they  were  to  be  great 
ladies,  which  is  often  as  little  to  be  expected,  as  an 
immoderate  heat  of  the  sun  in  the  north  of  Scotland. 
You  should  teach  yours  to  confine  their  desires  to  pro- 
babilities, to  be  as  useful  as  is  possible  to  themselves, 
and  to  think  privacy  (as  it  is)  the  happiest  state  of  life. 
I  do  not  doubt  your  giving  them  all  the  instructions 
necessary  to  form  them  to  a  virtuous  life  ;  but  'tis  a 
fatal  mistake  to  do  this  without  proper  restrictions. 
Vices  are  often  hid  under  the  name  of  virtues,  and 
the  practice  of  them  followed  by  the  worst  of  conse- 
quences.   Sincerity,  friendship,  piety,  disinterestedness, 


ThougJits  011  Education  231 

and  generosity,  are  all  great  virtues  ;  but,  pursued  with- 
out discretion,  become  criminal.  I  have  seen  ladies 
indulge  their  own  ill  humour  by  being  very  rude  and 
impertinent,  and  think  they  deserved  approbation  by 
saying  '  I  love  to  speak  truth. 7  One  of  your  acquaint- 
ance made  a  ball  the  next  day  after  her  mother  died, 
to  show  she  was  sincere.  I  believe  your  own  reflec- 
tion will  furnish  you  with  but  too  many  examples  of 
the  ill  effects  of  the  rest  of  the  sentiments  I  have 
mentioned,  when  too  warmly  embraced.  They  are 
generally  recommended  to  young  people  without  limits 
or  distinction,  and  this  prejudice  hurries  them  into 
great  misfortunes,  while  they  are  applauding  themselves 
in  the  noble  practice  (as  they  fancy)  of  very  eminent 
virtues. 

"  I  cannot  help  adding  (out  of  my  real  affection  to 
you),  I  wish  you  would  moderate  that  fondness  you 
have  for  your  children.  I  do  not  mean  you  should 
abate  any  part  of  your  care,  or  not  do  your  duty  to 
them  in  its  utmost  extent  :  but  I  would  have  you  early 
prepare  yourself  for  disappointments,  which  are  heavy 
in  proportion  to  their  being  surprising.  It  is  hardly 
possible,  in  such  a  number,  that  none  should  be 
unhappy  ;  prepare  yourself  against  a  misfortune  of  that 
kind.  I  confess  there  is  hardly  any  more  difficult  to 
support ;  yet  it  is  certain  imagination  has  a  great  share 
in  the  pain  of  it,  and  it  is  more  in  our  power  than  it  is 
commonly  believed  to  soften  whatever  ills  are  founded 
or  augmented  by  fancy.  Strictly  speaking,  there  is  but 
one    real   evil — I   mean,    acute    pain ;    all    other   com- 


232  Thoughts  on  Edttcation 

plaints  are  so  considerably  diminished  by  time,  that  it 
is  plain  the  grief  is  owing  to  our  passion,  since  the 
sensation  of  it  vanishes  when  that  is  over. 

"  There  is  another  mistake,  I  forgot  to  mention,  usual 
in  mothers :  if  any  of  their  daughters  are  beauties, 
they  take  great  pains  to  persuade  them  that  they  are 
ugly,  or  at  least  that  the}^  think  so,  which  the  young 
woman  never  fails  to  believe  springs  from  envy,  and  is 
perhaps  not  much  in  the  wrong.  I  would,  if  possible, 
give  them  a  just  notion  of  their  figure,  and  show  them 
how  far  it  is  valuable.  Every  advantage  has  its  price, 
and  may  be  either  over  or  undervalued.  It  is  the  common 
doctrine  of  (what  are  called)  good  books,  to  inspire  a 
contempt  of  beauty,  riches,  greatness,  etc.,  which  has 
done  as  much  mischief  among  the  younger  of  our  sex 
as  an  over  eager  desire  of  them.  They  should  not  look 
on  these  things  as  blessings  where  they  are  bestowed, 
though  not  necessaries  that  it  is  impossible  to  be 
happy  without.  I  am  persuaded  the  ruin  of  Lad}^  F. 
[Frances]  M.  [Meadows]*  was  in  great  measure  owing 
to  the  notions  given  her  by  the  silly  good  people  that 
had  the  care  of  her.  'Tis  true,  her  circumstances  and 
your  daughters'  are  very  different :  they  should  be 
taught  to  be  content  with  privacy,  and  yet  not  neglect 
good  fortune,  if  it  should  be  offered  them." 

It  was  naturall}^  with  the  girls  that  Lady  Mary  most 
concerned   herself.     For  the   boys  of  a  noble   family 

■^  Lady  Frances  Pierrepont,  Lady  IMary's  niece,  who  eloped  with 
and  married  a  Mr.  Meadows  in  1734.  Her  married  Hfe  seems  to 
have  been  unhappy. 


Thoughts  on  Edti cation  233 

there  was  the  regular  routine  of  tutors,  the  pubHc 
school  and  the  university  ;  then  the  "  ^rand  tour  "  with 
a  "  governor";  but  girls,  as  Lady  Mary  knew  by  bitter 
experience,  were  too  often  left  to  grow  up  as  they 
could — abandoned  to  ignorance,  or,  at  best,  taught  the 
superficial  accomplishments  which  might  serve  to 
attract  suitors.  Thus,  it  is  chiefly  on  their  behalf  she 
advises  her  daughter  in  the  following  letter : 

"  My  dear  Child, — I  am  extremely  concerned  to 
hear  you  complain  of  ill  health,  at  a  time  of  life  when 
you  ought  to  be  in  the  flower  of  your  strength.  I  hope 
I  need  not  recommend  to  you  the  care  of  it  :  the  ten- 
derness you  have  for  your  children  is  sufficient  to 
enforce  you  to  the  utmost  regard  for  the  preservation 
of  a  life  so  necessary  to  their  well-being.  I  do  not 
doubt  your  prudence  in  their  education  :  neither  can  I 
say  anything  particular  relating  to  it  at  this  distance, 
different  tempers  requiring  different  management.  In 
general,  never  attempt  to  govern  them  (as  most  people 
do)  by  deceit  :  if  they  find  themselves  cheated,  even 
in  trifles,  it  will  so  far  lessen  the  authority  of  their 
instructor,  as  to  make  them  neglect  all  their  future 
admonitions.  And,  if  possible,  breed  them  free  from 
prejudices  ;  those  contracted  in  the  nursery  often  in- 
fluence the  whole  life  after,  of  which  I  have  seen  many 
melanchoty  examples.  I  shall  say  no  more  of  this 
subject,  nor  would  have  said  this  little  if  you  had  not 
asked  my  advice  :  'tis  much  easier  to  give  rules  than  to 
practise  them.  I  am  sensible  my  own  natural  temper 
is  too  indulgent  :   I  think  it  the  least  dangerous  error, 


2  34  Thoughts  cm  Education 

yet  still  it  is  an  error.  I  can  only  say  with  truth,  that  I  do 
not  know  in  my  whole  life  having  ever  endeavoured  to 
impose  on  you,  or  give  a  false  colour  to  anything  that 
I  represented  to  you.  If  your  daughters  are  inclined  to 
love  reading,  do  not  check  their  inclination  by  hinder- 
ing them  of  the  diverting  part  of  it  ;  it  is  as  necessary 
for  the  amusement  of  women  as  the  reputation  of  men  ; 
but  teach  them  not  to  expect  or  desire  any  applause 
from  it.  Let  their  brothers  shine,  and  let  them  con- 
tent themselves  with  making  their  lives  easier  by  it, 
which  I  experimentally  know  is  more  effectually  done 
by  study  than  any  other  way.  Ignorance  is  as  much 
the  fountain  of  vice  as  idleness,  and  indeed  generally 
produces  it.  People  that  do  not  read,  or  work  for  a 
livelihood,  have  many  hours  they  know  not  how  to 
employ  ;  especially  women,  who  commonly  fall  into 
vapours,  or  something  worse." 

When  Lady  Mary  Stuart,  her  eldest  grand-daughter, 
was  growing  up,  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  de- 
veloped her  ideas  on  women's  education  in  somewhat 
more  detail,  supposing  that,  with  the  hereditary  good 
sense  of  the  Pierreponts,  the  Wortley  Montagus,  and 
Lord  Bute's  family,  her  grand-children  could  not  fail  to 
have  some  intellectual  capacity. 

"  I  will  therefore  speak  to  you  as  supposing  Lady 
Mary  not  only  capable,  but  desirous  of  learning  :  in 
that  case  by  all  means  let  her  be  indulged  in  it.  You 
will  tell  me  I  did  not  make  it  a  part  of  your  education  : 
your  prospect  was  very  different  from  hers.  As  you 
had  no  defect  either  in  mind  or  person  to  hinder,  and 


TJioughts  on  Ed^ication  235 

much  in  your  circumstances  to  attract,  the  highest 
offers,  it  seemed  your  business  to  learn  how  to  live  in 
the  world,  as  it  is  hers  to  know  how  to  be  easy  out  of 
it.  It  is  the  common  error  of  builders  and  parents  to 
follow  some  plan  they  think  beautiful  (and  perhaps  is 
so),  without  considering  that  nothing  is  beautiful  that 
is  displaced.  Hence  we  see  so  many  edifices  raised 
that  the  raisers  can  never  inhabit,  being  too  large  for 
their  fortunes.  Vistas  are  laid  open  over  barren 
heaths,  and  apartments  contrived  for  a  coolness  very 
agreeable  in  Italy,  but  killing  in  the  north  of  Britain  : 
thus  every  woman  endeavours  to  breed  her  daughter  a 
fine  lady,  qualifying  her  for  a  station  in  which  she  will 
never  appear,  and  at  the  same  time  incapacitating  her 
for  that  retirement  to  which  she  is  destined.  Learn- 
ing, if  she  has  a  real  taste  for  it,  will  not  only  make 
her  contented,  but  happy  in  it.  No  entertainment  is  / 
so  cheap  as  reading,  nor  any  pleasure  so  lasting.  She 
will  not  want  new  fashions,  nor  regret  the  loss  of  ex- 
pensive diversions,  or  variety  of  company,  if  she  can 
be  amused  with  an  author  in  her  closet.  To  render 
this  amusement  extensive,  she  should  be  permitted  to 
learn  the  languages.  I  have  heard  it  lamented  that 
boys  lose  so  many  years  in  mere  learning  of  words  : 
this  is  no  objection  to  a  girl,  whose  time  is  not  so 
precious  :  she  cannot  advance  herself  in  any  profession, 
and  has  therefore  more  hours  to  spare  ;  and  as  you 
say  her  memory  is  good,  she  will  be  very  agreeably 
employed  this  way.  There  are  two  cautions  to  be 
given  on  this  subject :  first,  not  to  think  herself  learned 


236  Thoughts  on  Education 

when  she  can  read  Latin,  or  even  Greek.  Languages 
are  more  properly  to  be  called  vehicles  of  learning  than 
learning  itself,  as  may  be  observed  in  many  school- 
masters, who,  though  perhaps  critics  in  grammar,  are 
the  most  ignorant  fellows  upon  earth.  True  know- 
ledge consists  in  knowing  things,  not  words.  I  would 
wish  her  no  further  a  linguist  than  to  enable  her  to  read 
books  in  their  originals,  that  are  often  corrupted,  and 
always  injured,  by  translations.  Two  hours'  applica- 
tion every  morning  will  bring  this  about  much  sooner 
than  you  can  imagine,  and  she  will  have  leisure  enough 
besides  to  run  over  the  English  poetry,  which  is  a 
more  important  part  of  a  woman's  education  than  it 
is  generally  supposed.  Many  a  young  damsel  has  been 
ruined  by  a  fine  copy  of  verses,  which  she  would  have 
laughed  at  if  she  had  known  it  had  been  stolen  from 
Mr.  Waller.  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  girl,  I  saved 
one  of  my  companions  from  destruction,  who  com- 
municated to  me  an  epistle  she  was  quite  charmed 
with.  As  she  had  a  natural  good  taste,  she  observed 
the  lines  were  not  so  smooth  as  Prior's  or  Pope's,  but 
had  more  thought  and  spirit  than  any  of  theirs.  She 
was  wonderfully  delighted  with  such  a  demonstration  of 
her  lover's  sense  and  passion,  and  not  a  little  pleased 
with  her  own  charms,  that  had  force  enough  to  inspire 
such  elegancies.  In  the  midst  of  this  triumph  I  showed 
her  that  they  were  taken  from  Randolph's  poems,  and 
the  unfortunate  transcriber  was  dismissed  with  the 
scorn  he  deserved.  To  say  truth,  the  poor  plagiary 
was  very  unlucky  to  fall  into  my  hands  ;  that  author 


Thoitghts  on   Education  237 

being  no  longer  in  fashion,  would  have  escaped  any  one 
of  less  universal  reading  than  myself.  You  should  en- 
courage your  daughter  to  talk  over  with  you  what  she 
reads ;  and,  as  you  are  very  capable  of  distinguishing, 
take  care  she  does  not  mistake  pert  folly  for  wit  and 
humour,  or  rhyme  for  poetry,  which  are  the  common 
errors  of  young  people,  and  have  a  train  of  ill  conse- 
quences. The  second  caution  to  be  given  her  (and 
which  is  most  absolutely  necessary)  is  to  conceal  what- 
ever learning  she  attains,  with  as  much  solicitude  as 
she  would  hide  crookedness  or  lameness  ;  the  parade  of 
it  can  only  serve  to  draw  on  her  the  envy,  and  conse- 
quently the  most  inveterate  hatred,  of  all  he  and  she 
fools,  which  will  certainly  be  at  least  three  parts  in  four 
of  all  her  acquaintance.  The  use  of  knowledge  in  our 
sex,  besides  the  amusement  of  solitude,  is  to  moderate 
the  passions,  and  learn  to  be  contented  with  a  small 
expense,  which  are  the  certain  effects  of  a  studious 
life  ;  and  it  may  be  preferable  even  to  that  fame  which 
men  have  engrossed  to  themselves,  and  will  not  suffer 
us  to  share.  You  will  tell  me  I  have  not  observed 
this  rule  myself;  but  you  are  mistaken  :  it  is  only  in- 
evitable accident  that  has  given  me  any  reputation 
that  way.  I  have  always  carefully  avoided  it,  and  ever 
thought  it  a  misfortune.  The  explanation  of  this  para- 
graph would  occasion  a  long  digression,  which  I  will 
not  trouble  you  with,  it  being  my  present  design  only 
to  say  what  I  think  useful  for  the  instruction  of  my 
grand-daughter,  which  I  have  much  at  heart.  If  she 
has    the    same  inclination   (I   should   say  passion)   for 


238  Thoughts  on  Education 

learning  that  I  was  born  with,  history,  geography,  and 
philosophy  will  furnish  her  with  materials  to  pass  away 
cheerfully  a  longer  life  than  is  allotted  to  mortals.  I 
believe  there  are  few  heads  capable  of  making  Sir  I. 
Newton's  calculations,  but  the  result  of  them  is  not 
difficult  to  be  understood  by  a  moderate  capacity.  Do 
not  fear  this  should  make  her  affect  the  character  of 

Lady ,  or  Lady ,  or  Mrs. ;*  those  women 

are  ridiculous,  not  because  they  have  learning,  but 
because  they  have  it  not.  One  thinks  herself  a  com- 
plete historian,  after  reading  Echard's  Roman  History  ; 
another  a  profound  philosopher,  having  got  by  heart 
some  of  Pope's  unintelligible  essays  ;  and  a  third  an  able 
divine,  on  the  strength  of  Whitefield's  sermons  :  thus 
you  hear  them  screaming  politics  and  controversy. 

''  It  is  a  saying  of  Thucydides,  ignorance  is  bold,  and 
knowledge  reserved.  Indeed,  it  is  impossible  to  be  far 
advanced  in  it  without  being  more  humbled  by  a  con- 
viction of  human  ignorance,  than  elated  by  learning. 
At  the  same  time  I  recommend  books,  I  neither  exclude 
work  nor  drawing.  I  think  it  as  scandalous  for  a 
woman  not  to  know  how  to  use  a  needles,  a  for  a  man 
not  to  know  how  to  use  a  sword.  I  was  once  extreme 
fond  of  my  pencil,  and  it  was  a  great  mortification  to 
me  when  my  father  turned  off  my  master,  having  made 
a  considerable  progress  for  the  short  time  I  learnt.  My 
over-eagerness  in  the  pursuit  of  it  had  brought  a  weak- 
ness on  my  eyes,  that  made  it  necessary  to  leave  it  off; 
and  all  the  advantage  I  got  was  the  improvement  of  my 

^  The  blanks  are  in  the  oriuinal. 


Thoughts  oil  Education  239 

hand.  I  see,  by  hers,  that  practice  will  make  her  a 
ready  writer  :  she  may  attain  it  by  serving  you  for  a 
secretary,  when  your  health  or  affairs  make  it  trouble- 
some to  you  to  write  yourself;  and  custom  will  make 
it  an  agreeable  amusement  to  her.  She  cannot  have 
too  many  for  that  station  of  life  which  will  probably  be 
her  fate.  The  ultimate  end  of  your  education  was  to 
make  you  a  good  wife  (and  I  have  the  comfort  to  hear 
that  you  are  one)  :  hers  ought  to  be,  to  make  her  happy 
in  a  virgin  state.  I  will  not  say  it  is  happier  ;  but  it  is 
undoubtedly  safer  than  any  marriage.  In  a  lottery, 
where  there  are  (at  the  lowest  computation)  ten  thou- 
sand blanks  to  a  prize,  it  is  the  most  prudent  choice 
not  to  venture.  I  have  always  been  so  thoroughly 
persuaded  of  this  truth,  that,  notwithstanding  the 
flattering  views  I  had  for  you  (as  I  never  intended  you 
a  sacrifice  to  my  vanity),  I  thought  I  owed  you  the 
justice  to  lay  before  you  all  the  hazards  attending 
matrimony  :  you  may  recollect  I  did  so  in  the  strongest 
manner.  Perhaps  you  may  have  more  success  in  the 
instructing  your  daughter :  she  has  so  much  com- 
pany at  home,  she  will  not  need  seeking  it  abroad,  and 
will  more  readily  take  the  notions  you  think  fit  to  give 
her.  As  you  were  alone  in  my  family,  it  would  have 
been  thought  a  great  cruelty  to  suffer  you  no  com- 
panions of  your  own  age,  especially  having  so  many 
near  relations,  and  I  do  not  wonder  their  opinions 
influenced  yours." 

But  this  plea  for  a  learned  education  for  women  was 
so   contrary  to  the  prejudices  and   ideas  of  the  time. 


240  TJiougJUs  on  Educatio7i 

that  Lady  Mary  made  haste  to  soften  down  the  im- 
pression it  might  produce  on  Lord  Bute ;  hence  she 
declared  that  she  merely  recommended  study  as  a 
means  of  preventing  time  from  hanging  heavy  on  the 
hands  of  her  grandchildren,  especially  in  case  they 
remained  single: 

''  I  cannot  help  writing  a  sort  of  apology  for  my  last 
letter,  foreseeing  that  you  will  think  it  wrong,   or  at 
least  Lord  Bute  will  be  extremely  shocked  at  the  pro- 
posal of  a  learned  education  for  daughters,  which  the 
generality  of  men  believe  as  great  a  profanation  as  the 
clergy  would  do  if  the  laity  should  presume  to  exercise 
the  functions  of  the  priesthood.     I  desire  you  would 
take  notice,  I  would  not  have  learning  enjoined  them 
as  a  task,  but  permitted  as  a  pleasure,  if  their  genius 
leads  them   naturally  to   it.     I   look  upon   my  grand- 
daughters  as   a  sort   of  lay  nuns  :    destiny  may  have 
laid  up  other  things  for  them,  but  they  have  no  reason 
to  expect  to  pass  their  time  otherwise  than  their  aunts 
do  at  present ;  and  I  know,  by  experience,  it  is  in  the 
power  of  study  not   only  to   make  solitude   tolerable, 
but  agreeable.     I   have  now  lived  almost  seven  years 
in  a  stricter  retirement  than  yours  in  the  Isle  of  Bute, 
and  can  assure  you,   I  have   never  had   half  an  hour 
heavy  on    my   hands,   for  want    of   something  to   do. 
Whoever  will  cultivate  their  own  mind,  will  find  full 
employment.     Every  virtue  does  not  only  require  great 
care  in  the  planting,  but  as  much  daily  solicitude  in 
cherishing,  as  exotic  fruits  and  flowers.     The  vices  and 
passions  (which  I  am  afraid  are  the  natural  product  of 


Thoughts  on  Edttcation  241 

the  soil)  demand  perpetual  weeding.  Add  to  this  the 
search  after  knowledge  (every  branch  of  which  is  enter- 
taining), and  the  longest  life  is  too  short  for  the  pursuit 
of  it ;  which,  though  in  some  regards  confined  to  very 
strait  limits,  leaves  still  a  vast  variety  of  amusements 
to  those  capable  of  tasting  them,  which  is  utterly 
impossible  for  those  that  are  blinded  by  prejudices 
which  are  the  certain  effect  of  an  ignorant  education. 
My  own  was  one  of  the  worst  in  the  world,  being 
exactly  the  same  as  Clarissa  Harlowe's ;  her  pious 
Mrs.  Norton  so  perfectly  resembling  my  governess, 
who  had  been  nurse  to  my  mother,  I  could  almost 
fancy  the  author  was  acquainted  with  her.  She  took 
so  much  pains,  from  my  infancy,  to  fill  my  head  with 
superstitious  tales  and  false  notions,  it  was  none  of  her 
fault  I  am  not  at  this  day  afraid  of  witches  and  hob- 
goblins, or  turned  methodist.  Almost  all  girls  are  bred 
after  this  manner.  I  believe  you  are  the  only  woman 
(perhaps  I  might  say,  person)  that  never  was  either 
frighted  or  cheated  into  anything  by  your  parents.  I 
can  truly  affirm,  I  never  deceived  anybody  in  my  life, 
excepting  (which  I  confess  has  often  happened  un- 
designedly) by  speaking  plainly ;  as  Earl  Stanhope 
used  to  say  (during  his  ministry)  he  always  imposed 
on  the  foreign  ministers  b}^  telling  them  the  naked 
truth,  which,  as  they  thought  impossible  to  come  from 
the  mouth  of  a  statesman,  they  never  failed  to  write 
informations  to  their  respective  courts  directly  contrary 
to  the  assurances  he  gave  them  :  most  people  con- 
founding the  ideas  of  sense  and  cunning,  though  there 

16 


242  Thoughts  on  Edttcation 

are  really  no  two  things  in  nature  more  opposite :  it 
is,  in  part,  from  this  false  reasoning,  the  unjust  custom 
prevails  of  debarring  our  sex  from  the  advantages  of 
learning,  the  men  fancying  the  improvement  of  our 
understandings  would  only  furnish  us  with  more  art 
to  deceive  them,  which  is  directly  contrar}-  to  the 
truth.  Fools  are  always  enterprising,  not  seeing  the 
difficulties  of  deceit,  or  the  ill  consequences  of  detec- 
tion. I  could  give  many  examples  of  ladies  whose  ill 
conduct  has  been  very  notorious,  which  has  been  owing 
to  that  ignorance  which  has  exposed  them  to  idleness, 
which  is  justly  called  the  mother  of  mischief.  There 
is  nothing  so  like  the  education  of  a  woman  of  quality 
as  that  of  a  prince :  they  are  taught  to  dance,  and  the 
exterior  part  of  what  is  called  good  breeding,  w^hich, 
if  they  attain,  they  are  extraordinary  creatures  in  their 
kind,  and  have  all  the  accomplishments  required  by 
their  directors.  The  same  characters  are  formed  by 
the  same  lessons,  which  inclines  me  to  think  (if  I  dare 
say  it)  that  nature  has  not  placed  us  in  an  inferior  rank 
to  men,  no  more  than  the  females  of  other  animals, 
where  we  see  no  distinction  of  capacity ;  though,  I  am 
persuaded,  if  there  was  a  commonwealth  of  rational 
horses  (as  Doctor  Swift  has  supposed),  it  would  be 
an  established  maxim  among  them,  that  a  mare  could 
not  be  taught  to  pace." 

This  last  little  hoiitade  indicates  with  sufficient  plain- 
ness that  the  writer,  though  refraining  from  affronting 
the  prejudices  of  her  time,  did  not  share  them. 

And  though  Horace  Walpole,  in  one  of  his  letters. 


Thoughts  on  Edtication  243 

charges  her  with  neglecting  her  daughter's  education,  a 
neglectful  mother  would  hardly  have  written  such  a  letter 
as  the  following : 

''  For  my  part,  I  am  so  far  persuaded  of  the  goodness 
of  your  heart,  I  have  often  had  a  mind  to  write  you  a 
consolatory  epistle  on  my  own  death,  which  I  believe 
will  be  some  affliction,  though  my  life  is  wholly  useless 
to  you.  That  part  of  it  which  we  passed  together  you 
have  reason  to  remember  with  gratitude,  though  I  think 
you  misplace  it ;  you  are  no  more  obliged  to  me  for 
bringing  you  into  the  world,  than  I  am  to  you  for 
coming  into  it,  and  I  never  made  use  of  that  common- 
place (and  like  most  common-place,  false)  argument,  as 
exacting  any  return  of  affection.  There  was  a  mutual 
necessity  on  us  both  to  part  at  that  time,  and  no  obliga- 
tion on  either  side.  In  the  case  of  your  infancy,  there 
was  so  great  a  mixture  of  instinct,  I  can  scarce  even  put 
that  in  the  number  of  the  proofs  I  have  given  you  [of] 
my  love ;  but  I  confess  I  think  it  a  great  one,  if  you 
compare  my  after- conduct  towards  you  with  that  of 
other  mothers,  who  generally  look  on  their  children 
as  devoted  to  their  pleasures,  and  bound  by  duty  to 
have  no  sentiments  but  what  they  please  to  give  them  ; 
playthings  at  first,  and  afterwards  the  objects  on  which 
they  may  exercise  their  spleen,  tyranny,  or  ill  humour. 
I  have  always  thought  of  you  in  a  different  manner. 
Your  happiness  was  my  first  wish,  and  the  pursuit  of  all 
my  actions,  divested  of  all  self-interest.  So  far  I  think 
you  ought,  and  believe  you  do,  remember  me  as  your 
real  friend." 

16 — 2 


244  Thoughts  on  Ediicatio7i 

While  pressing  the  claims  of  study  for  her  grand- 
daughters, Lady  Mary  did  not  forget  to  recommend 
social  life  as  the  only  means  of  obtaining  that  neces- 
sary knowledge  of  the  world  which  was  to  correct  the 
false  impressions  too  often  gained  from  books.  Through 
all  her  letters  on  the  subject  of  training  and  educa- 
tion runs  the  doctrine  that  good  books  are  the  best 
guardians  against  bad  books,  good  society  against  bad 
companions,  and,  in  short,  that  good  taste  is  a  far 
more  efficient  safeguard  than  abstinence  or  prohibition. 

"  I  congratulate  my  grand-daughters  on  being  born 
in  an  age  so  much  enlightened.  Sentiments  are  cer- 
tainly extreme  silly,  and  only  qualify  young  people  to 
be  the  bubbles  of  all  their  acquaintance.  I  do  not 
doubt  the  frequency  of  assemblies  has  introduced  a 
more  enlarged  way  of  thinking ;  it  is  a  kind  of  public 
education,  which  I  have  always  thought  as  necessary 
for  girls  as  for  boys.  A  woman  married  at  five-and- 
twenty,  from  under  the  eye  of  a  strict  parent,  is  com- 
monly as  ignorant  as  she  was  at  five ;  and  no  more 
capable  of  avoiding  the  snares,  and  struggling  wath 
the  difficulties,  she  will  infallibly  meet  with  in  the 
commerce  of  the  world.  The  knowledge  of  mankind 
(the  most  useful  of  all  knowledge)  can  only  be  acquired 
by  conversing  with  them.  Books  are  so  far  from  giving 
that  instruction,  they  fill  the  head  with  a  set  of  wrong 
notions,  from  whence  spring  the  tribes  of  Clarissas, 
Harriets,  etc.  Yet  such  was  the  method  of  education 
when  I  was  in  England,  which  I  had  it  not  in  my 
power  to  correct ;    the  young  will   always   adopt  the 


Thoughts  on  Education  245 

opinions    of    all    their    companions,    rather   than   the 
advice  of  their  mothers." 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  last  extract  that  Lady  Mary 
had  not  forgotten  her  Richardson,  and  her  memory  of 
his  novels  was  quickened  by  an  event  which  set  the 
little  society  of  Lovere  in  a  turmoil — an  Italian 
servant-girl  playing  Pamela  to  the  "  Mr.  B.  "  of  a  local 
count. 

"  This  town  is  at  present  in  a  general  stare,  or,  to 
use  their  own  expression,  sotio  sopra ;  and  not  only  this 
town,  but  the  capital  Bergamo,  the  whole  province, 
the  neighbouring  Brescian,  and  perhaps  all  the  Vene- 
tian dominion,  occasioned  by  an  adventure  exactly 
resembling,  and  I  believe  copied  from,  Pamela.  I 
know  not  under  what  constellation  that  foolish  stuff 
was  wrote,  but  it  has  been  translated  into  more  lan- 
guages than  any  modern  performance  I  ever  heard  of. 
No  proof  of  its  influence  was  ever  stronger  than  this 
story,  which,  in  Richardson's  hands,  would  serve  very 
well  to  furnish  out  seven  or  eight  volumes.  I  shall 
make  it  as  short  as  I  can. 

"  Here  is  a  gentleman's  family,  consisting  of  an  old 
bachelor  and  his  sister,  who  have  fortune  enough  to 
live  with  great  elegance,  though  without  any  magnifi- 
cence, possessed  of  the  esteem  of  all  their  acquaint- 
ance, he  being  distinguished  by  his  probity,  and  she 
by  her  virtue.  They  are  not  only  suffered  but  sought 
by  all  the  best  company,  and  indeed  are  the  most  con- 
versable, reasonable  people  in  the  place.  She  is  an 
excellent    housewife,  and    particularly    remarkable    for 


2  4*^  TJioughts  on   Ethication 

keeping  her  pretty  house  as  neat  as  any  in  Holland. 
She  appears  no  longer  in  public,  being  past  fifty,  and 
passes  her  time  chiefly  at  home  with  her  work,  re- 
ceiving few  visitants.  This  Signora  Diana,  about  ten 
years  since,  saw,  at  a  monastery,  a  girl  about  eight 
years  old,  who  came  thither  to  beg  alms  for  the 
mother.  Her  beauty,  though  covered  with  rags,  was 
very  observable,  and  gave  great  compassion  to  the 
charitable  lady,  who  thought  it  meritorious  to 
rescue  such  a  modest  sweetness  as  appeared  in  her 
face  from  the  ruin  to  which  her  wretched  circum- 
stances exposed  her.  She  asked  her  some  ques- 
tions, to  which  she  answered  with  a  natural  civility 
that  seemed  surprising ;  and  finding  the  head  of  her 
family  (her  brother)  to  be  a  cobbler,  who  could  hardly 
live  by  that  trade,  and  her  mother  too  old  to  work  for 
her  maintenance,  she  bid  the  child  follow  her  home  ; 
and  sending  for  her  parent,  proposed  to  her  to  breed 
the  little  Octavia  for  her  servant.  This  was  joyfully 
accepted,  the  old  woman  dismissed  with  a  piece  of 
money,  and  the  girl  remained  with  the  Signora  Diana, 
who  bought  her  decent  clothes,  and  took  pleasure  in 
teaching  her  whatever  she  was  capable  of  learning. 
She  learned  to  read,  write,  and  cast  accounts,  with 
uncommon  facility  ;  and  had  such  a  genius  for  work, 
that  she  excelled  her  mistress  in  embroidery,  point, 
and  every  operation  of  the  needle.  She  grew  perfectly 
skilled  in  confectionery,  had  a  good  insight  into  cookery, 
and  was  a  great  proficient  in  distillery.  To  these 
accomplishments  she  was  so  handy,  well  bred,  humble 


Thoughts  on  Education  247 

and  modest,  that  not  only  her  master  and  mistress, 
but  everybody  that  frequented  the  house,  took  notice 
of  her.  She  hved  thus  nine  years,  never  going  out  but 
to  church.  However,  beauty  is  as  difficult  to  conceal 
as  light ;  hers  began  to  make  a  great  noise.  Signora 
Diana  told  me  she  observed  an  unusual  concourse  of 
peddling  women  that  came  on  pretext  to  sell  penn'orths 
of  lace,  china,  etc.,  and  several  young  gentlemen,  very 
well  powdered,  that  were  perpetually  walking  before 
her  door,  and  looking  up  at  the  windows.  These  prog- 
nostics alarmed  her  prudence,  and  she  listened  very 
willingly  to  some  honourable  proposals  that  were  made 
by  many  honest,  thriving  tradesmen.  She  communi- 
cated them  to  Octavia,  and  told  her,  that  though  she 
was  sorry  to  lose  so  good  a  servant,  yet  she  thought 
it  right  to  advise  her  to  choose  a  husband.  The  girl 
answered  modestly,  that  it  was  her  duty  to  obey  all 
her  commands,  but  she  found  no  inclination  to  mar- 
riage ;  and  if  she  would  permit  her  to  live  single,  she 
should  think  it  a  greater  obligation  than  any  other  she 
could  bestow.  Signora  Diana  was  too  conscientious 
to  force  her  into  a  state  from  which  she  could  not  free 
her,  and  left  her  to  her  own  disposal.  However,  they 
parted  soon  after :  whether  (as  the  neighbours  say) 
Signor  Aurelio  Ardinghi,  her  brother,  looked  with  too 
much  attention  on  the  young  woman,  or  that  she  her- 
self (as  Diana  says)  desired  to  seek  a  place  of  more 
profit,  she  removed  to  Bergamo,  where  she  soon 
found  preferment,  being  strongly  recommended  by 
the   Ardinghi  family.     She  was  advanced   to  be    first 


248  Thoitghts  on  Education 

waiting-woman  to  an  old  Countess,  who  was  so  well 
pleased  with  her  service,  she  desired,  on  her  death-bed, 
Count  Jeronimo  Sosi,  her  son,  to  be  kind  to  her.  He 
found  no  repugnance  to  this  act  of  obedience,  having 
distinguished  the  beautiful  Octavia  from  his  first  sight 
of  her;  and,  during  the  six  months  that  she  had  served 
in  the  house,  had  tried  every  art  of  a  fine  gentleman, 
accustomed  to  victories  of  that  sort,  to  vanquish  the 
virtue  of  this  fair  virgin.  He  has  a  handsome  figure, 
and  has  had  an  education  uncommon  in  this  country, 
having  made  the  tour  of  Europe,  and  brought  from 
Paris  all  the  improvements  that  are  to  be  picked  up 
there,  being  celebrated  for  his  grace  in  dancing,  and 
skill  in  fencing  and  riding,  by  which  he  is  a  favourite 
among  the  ladies,  and  respected  by  the  men.  Thus 
qualified  for  conquest,  you  may  judge  of  his  surprise 
at  the  firm  yet  modest  resistance  of  this  country  girl, 
who  was  neither  to  be  moved  by  address,  nor  gained 
by  liberality,  nor  on  any  terms  would  be  prevailed  on 
to  stay  as  his  housekeeper,  after  the  death  of  his  mother. 
She  took  that  post  in  the  house  of  an  old  judge,  where 
she  continued  to  be  solicited  by  the  emissaries  of  the 
Count's  passion,  and  found  a  new  persecutor  in  her 
master,  who  after  three  months  offered  her  marriage. 
She  chose  to  return  to  her  former  obscurity,  and 
escaped  from  his  pursuit,  without  asking  any  wages, 
and  privately  returned  to  the  Signora  Diana.  She 
threw  herself  at  her  feet,  and,  kissing  her  hands,  begged 
her,  with  tears,  to  conceal  her  at  least  some  time,  if 
she  would  not  accept  of  her  service.     She  protested  she 


Thoughts  on  Ed2  teat  ion  249 

had  never  been  happy  since  she  left  it.  While  she 
was  making  these  submissions,  Signer  Aurelio  entered. 
She  entreated  his  intercession  on  her  knees,  who  was 
easily  persuaded  to  consent  she  should  stay  with  them, 
though  his  sister  blamed  her  highly  for  her  precipitate 
flight,  having  no  reason,  from  the  age  and  character 
of  her  master,  to  fear  any  violence,  and  wondered  at 
her  declining  the  honour  he  offered  her.  Octavia 
confessed  that  perhaps  she  had  been  too  rash  in  her 
proceedings,  but  said,  that  he  seemed  to  resent  her 
refusal  in  such  a  manner  as  frighted  her ;  she  hoped 
that  after  a  few  days'  search  he  would  think  no  more 
of  her ;  and  that  she  scrupled  entering  into  the  holy 
bands  of  matrimony,  where  her  heart  did  not  sincerely 
accompany  all  the  words  of  the  ceremony.  Signora 
Diana  had  nothing  to  say  in  contradiction  to  this 
pious  sentiment ;  and  her  brother  applauded  the 
honesty  which  could  not  be  perverted  by  any  interest 
whatever.  She  remained  concealed  in  their  house, 
where  she  helped  in  the  kitchen,  cleaned  the  rooms, 
and  redoubled  her  usual  diligence  and  officiousness. 
Her  old  master  came  to  Lovere  on  pretence  of  adjust- 
ing a  lawsuit,  three  days  after,  and  made  private 
inquiry  after  her ;  but  hearing  from  her  mother  and 
brother  (who  knew  nothing  of  her  being  here)  that 
they  had  never  heard  of  her,  he  concluded  she  had 
taken  another  route,  and  returned  to  Bergamo ;  and 
she  continued  in  this  retirement  near  a  fortnight. 

*'  Last    Sunday,    as    soon    as    the    day   was    closed, 
arrived  at  Signor  Aurelio's  door  a  handsome  equipage 


250  Thoughts  on  Education 

in  a  large  bark,  attended  by  four  well-armed  servants 
on  horseback.  An  old  priest  stepped  out  of  it,  and 
desiring  to  speak  with  Signora  Diana,  informed  her 
he  came  from  the  Count  Jeronimo  Sosi  to  demand 
Octavia;  that  the  Count  waited  for  her  at  a  village 
four  miles  from  hence,  where  he  intended  to  marry 
her ;  and  had  sent  him,  who  was  engaged  to  perform 
the  divine  rite,  that  Signora  Diana  might  resign  her 
to  his  care  without  any  difficult3\  The  young  damsel 
was  called  for,  who  entreated  she  might  be  permitted 
the  company  of  another  priest  with  whom  she  was 
acquainted :  this  was  readily  granted ;  and  she  sent 
for  a  young  man  that  visits  me  very  often,  being 
remarkable  for  his  sobriety  and  learning.  Meanwhile, 
a  valet-de-chambre  presented  her  with  a  box,  in  which 
was  a  complete  genteel  undress  for  a  lady.  Her  laced 
linen  and  fine  nightgown  were  soon  put  on,  and  away 
they  marched,  leaving  the  family  in  a  surprise  not  to 
be  described. 

"  Signor  Aurelio  came  to  drink  coffee  with  me  next 
morning :  his  first  words  were,  he  had  brought  me  the 
history  of  Pamela.  I  said,  laughing,  I  had  been  tired 
with  it  long  since.  He  explained  himself  by  relating 
this  story,  mixed  with  great  resentment  for  Octavia's 
conduct.  Count  Jeronimo's  father  had  been  his 
ancient  friend  and  patron  ;  and  this  escape  from  his 
house  (he  said)  would  lay  him  under  a  suspicion  of 
having  abetted  the  young  man's  folly,  and  perhaps 
expose  him  to  the  anger  of  all  his  relations,  for  con- 
triving   an    action    he    would    rather    have    died    than 


Thoughts  oil  Edttcation  251 

suffered,  if  he  had  known  how  to  prevent  it.  I  easily 
believed  him,  there  appearing  a  latent  jealousy  under 
his  affliction,  that  showed  me  he  envied  the  bride- 
groom's happiness,  at  the  same  time  he  condemned 
his  extravagance. 

*'  Yesterday  noon,  being  Saturday,  Don  Joseph  re- 
turned, who  has  got  the  name  of  Parson  Williams  by 
this  expedition  :  he  relates,  that  when  the  bark  which 
carried  the  coach  and  train  arrived,  they  found  the 
amorous  Count  waiting  for  his  bride  on  the  bank  of 
the  lake  :  he  would  have  proceeded  immediately  to  the 
church ;  but  she  utterly  refused  it,  till  they  had  each 
of  them  been  at  confession  ;  after  which  the  happy 
knot  was  tied  by  the  parish  priest.  They  continued 
their  journey,  and  came  to  their  palace  at  Bergamo  in 
a  few  hours,  where  everything  was  prepared  for  their 
reception.  They  received  the  communion  next  morn- 
ing, and  the  Count  declares  that  the  lovely  Octavia 
has  brought  him  an  inestimable  portion,  since  he  owes 
to  her  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  He  has  renounced 
play,  at  which  he  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  time  and 
money.  She  has  already  retrenched  several  super- 
fluous servants,  and  put  his  family  into  an  exact 
method  of  economy,  preserving  all  the  splendour 
necessary  to  his  rank.  He  has  sent  a  letter  in  his 
own  hand  to  her  mother,  inviting  her  to  reside  with 
them,  and  subscribing  himself  her  dutiful  son  :  but  the 
Countess  has  sent  another  privately  by  Don  Joseph, 
in  which  she  advises  the  old  woman  to  stay  at  Lovere, 
promising  to  take  care  she  shall  want  nothing,  accom- 


252  Thoughts  on  Education 

panied  with  a  token  of  twenty  sequins,*  which  is  at 
least  nineteen  more  than  ever  she  saw  in  her  Ufe. 

*'  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  from  Octavia"s  first  serving 
the  old  lady,  there  came  frequent  charities  in  her  name 
to  her  poor  parent,  which  nobody  was  surprised  at,  the 
lady  being  celebrated  for  pious  works,  and  Octavia 
known  to  be  a  great  favourite  with  her.  It  is  now 
discovered  that  they  were  all  sent  by  the  generous 
lover,  who  has  presented  Don  Joseph  very  hand- 
somely, but  he  has  brought  neither  letter  nor  message 
to  the  house  of  Ardinghi,  which  affords  much  specu- 
lation." 

Another  Italian  lady  of  the  time,  though  conforming 
less  closely  to  Richardson's  pattern,  was  regarded  by 
Lady  Mary  as  deserving  the  honour  —  not  of  the 
greatest,  in  her  estimation  —  of  being  celebrated  by 
him  :  the  Marchesa  Licinia  Bentivoglio. 

''A  late  adventure  here  makes  a  great  noise  from  the 
rank  of  the  people  concerned  :  the  Marchioness  Lys- 
cinniat  Bentivoglio,  who  was  heiress  of  one  branch  of 
the  Martinenghi,  and  brought  forty  thousand  gold 
sequins  to  her  husband,  and  the  expectation  of  her 
father's  estate,  three  thousand  pounds  per  annum,  the 
most  magnificent  palace  at  Brescia  (finer  than  any  in 
London),  another  in  the  country,  and  many  other 
advantages  of  woods,  plate,  jewels,  etc.  The  Cardinal 
Bentivoglio,  his  uncle,  thought  he  could  not  choose 
better,  though  his  nephew  might  certainly  have  chose 

*  About  ten  guineas  English . 

t   Lady  Mary  probably  spelt  phonetically. 


TJiotigJits  on  Edttcation  253 

among  all  the  Italian  ladies,  being  descended  from  the 
sovereigns  of  Bologna,*  actually  a  grandee  of  Spain,  a 
noble  Venetian,  and  in  possession  of  twenty-five  thousand 
pounds  sterling  per  annum,  with  immense  wealth  in 
palaces,  furniture,  and  absolute  dominion  in  some  of  his 
lands.  The  girl  was  prett}^,  and  the  match  was  with 
the  satisfaction  of  both  families ;  but  she  brought  with 
her  such  a  diabolical  temper,  and  such  Luciferan  pride, 
that  neither  husband,  relations,  nor  servants,  had  ever 
a  moment's  peace  with  her.  After  about  eight  years' 
warfare,  she  eloped  one  fair  morning  and  took  refuge 
in  Venice,  leaving  her  two  daughters,  the  eldest  scarce 
six  years  old,  to  the  care  of  the  exasperated  Marquis. 
Her  father  was  so  angry  at  her  extravagant  conduct, 
he  would  not,  for  some  time,  receive  her  into  his  house; 
but,  after  some  months,  and  much  solicitation,  parental 
fondness  prevailed,  and  she  remained  with  him  ever 
since,  notwithstanding  all  the  efforts  of  her  husband, 
who  tried  kindness,  submission,  and  threats,  to  no  pur- 
pose. The  Cardinal  came  twice  to  Brescia,  her  own 
father  joined  his  entreaties,  nay,  hh  Holiness  wrote  a 
letter  with  his  own  hand,  and  made  use  of  the  Church 
authority,  but  he  found  it  harder  to  reduce  one  woman 
than  ten  heretics.  She  was  inflexible,  and  lived  ten 
years  in  this  state  of  reprobation.  Her  father  died  last 
winter,  and  left  her  his  whole  estate  for  her  hfe,  and 
afterwards  to  her  children.  Her  eldest  was  now  mar- 
riageable, and  disposed  of  to  the  nephew  of  Cardinal 

■^  The  Bentivogli  had  been  Lords  of  Bologna.     They  claimed 
descent  from  Enzio,  son  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  II. 


2  54  Tho7to;hts  on  Education 

Valentino  Gonzagua,  first  minister  at  Rome.  She 
would  neither  appear  at  the  wedding,  nor  take  the 
least  notice  of  a  dutiful  letter  sent  by  the  bride.  The 
old  Cardinal  (who  was  passionately  fond  of  his  illustrious 
name)  was  so  much  touched  with  the  apparent  extinc- 
tion of  it,  that  it  was  thought  to  have  hastened  his 
death.  She  continued  in  the  enjoyment  of  her  ill- 
humour,  living  in  great  splendour,  though  almost  soli- 
tary, having,  by  some  impertinence  or  other,  disgusted 
all  her  acquaintance,  till  about  a  month  ago,  when  her 
woman  brought  her  a  basin  of  broth,  which  she  usually 
drank  in  her  bed.  She  took  a  few  spoonfuls  of  it,  and 
then  cried  out  it  was  so  bad  it  was  impossible  to  endure 
it.  Her  chambermaids  were  so  used  to  hear  her  ex- 
clamations they  had  not  the  worse  opinion  of  it,  and 
eat  it  up  very  comfortably ;  they  were  both  seized  with 
the  same  pangs,  and  died  the  next  day.  She  sent  for 
physicians,  who  judged  her  poisoned  ;  but,  as  she  had 
taken  a  small  quantity,  by  the  help  of  antidotes  she 
recovered,  yet  is  still  in  a  languishing  condition.  Her 
cook  was  examined,  and  racked,  always  protesting  entire 
innocence,  and  swearing  he  had  made  the  soup  in  the 
same  manner  he  was  accustomed.  You  may  imagine 
the  noise  of  this  affair.  She  loudly  accused  her  husband, 
it  being  the  interest  of  no  other  person  to  wish  her  out 
of  the  world.  He  resides  at  Ferrara  (about  which  the 
greatest  part  of  his  lands  lie),  and  was  soon  informed 
of  this  accident.  He  sent  doctors  to  her,  whom  she 
would  not  see,  sent  vast  alms  to  all  the  convents  to 
pray  for  her  health,  and  ordered  a  number  of  masses 


Thotights  on  Edit  cat?  on  255 

to  be  said  in  every  church  of  Brescia  and  Ferrara.  He 
sent  letters  to  the  Senate  at  Venice,  and  published 
manifestoes  in  all  the  capital  cities,  in  which  he  pro- 
fesses his  affection  to  her,  and  abhorrence  of  any 
attempt  against  her,  and  has  a  cloud  of  witnesses 
that  he  never  gave  her  the  least  reason  of  complaint, 
and  even  since  her  leaving  him  has  always  spoke  of  her 
with  kindness,  and  courted  her  return.  He  is  said  to 
be  remarkably  sweet  tempered,  and  has  the  best  char- 
acter of  any  man  of  quality  in  this  country.  If  the 
death  of  her  women  did  not  seem  to  confirm  it,  her 
accusation  would  gain  credit  with  nobody.  She  is 
certainly  very  sincere  in  it  herself,  being  so  persuaded 
he  has  resolved  her  death,  that  she  dare  not  take  the 
air,  apprehending  to  be  assassinated,  and  has  im- 
prisoned herself  in  her  chamber,  where  she  will  neither 
eat  nor  drink  anything  that  she  does  not  see  tasted  by 
all  her  servants.  The  physicians  now  say  that  perhaps 
the  poison  might  fall  into  the  broth  accidentally ;  I  con- 
fess I  do  not  perceive  the  possibility  of  it.  As  to  the 
cook  suffering  the  rack,  that  is  a  mere  jest  where  people 
have  money  enough  to  bribe  the  executioner.  I  decide 
nothing ;  but  such  is  the  present  destiny  of  a  lady,  who 
would  have  been  one  of  Richardson's  heroines,  having 
never  been  suspected  of  the  least  gallantry ;  hating, 
and  being  hated  universally ;  of  a  most  noble  spirit, 
it  being  proverbial,  *  As  proud  as  the  Marchioness  Lys- 
cinnia.' " 

As  a  contrast  to  this  instance  of  Italian  pride  may 
be  appended  here  an  equally  sublime  specimen  of  Eng- 


256  Tho2ig/its  072  Education 

lish  humility  of  which  Lady  Alary  was  reminded  by  an 
item  of  news  in  one  of  her  daughter's  letters.  It  appears 
that  an  acquaintance  of  hers  in  Italy,  Sir  John  Rawdon, 
was  raised  to  the  Irish  peerage ;  and  her  comments  on 
the  transaction  are  more  pithy  than  complimentary : 

''  I  cannot  believe  Sir  John's  advancement  is  owing 
to  his  merit,  though  he  certainly  deserves  such  a  dis- 
tinction ;  but  I  am  persuaded  the  present  disposers  of 
such  dignities  are  neither  more  clear-sighted  nor  more 
disinterested  than  their  predecessors.  Ever  since  I 
knew  the  world,  Irish  patents  have  been  hung  out  to 
sale,  like  the  laced  and  embroidered  coats  in  Monmouth- 
street,  and  bought  up  by  the  same  sort  of  people ;  I 
mean  those  who  had  rather  wear  shabby  finery  than  no 
finery  at  all ;  though  I  do  not  suppose  this  was  Sir 
John's  case.  That  good  creature  (as  the  country  saying 
is)  has  not  a  bit  of  pride  in  him.  I  dare  swear  he  pur- 
chased his  title  for  the  same  reason  he  used  to  purchase 
pictures  in  Italy ;  not  because  he  wanted  to  bu}-,  but 
because  somebody  or  other  wanted  to  sell.  He  hardly 
ever  opened  his  mouth  but  to  say  '  What  you  please, 
sir;' — 'At  your  service;' — 'Your  humble  servant;'  or 
some  gentle  expression  to  the  same  effect.  It  is  scarce 
credible  that  with  this  unlimited  complaisance  he  should 
draw  a  blow  upon  himself;  yet  it  so  happened  that  one 
of  his  own  countrymen  was  brute  enough  to  strike  him. 
As  it  was  done  before  many  witnesses,  Lord  Mansel 
heard  of  it ;  and  thinking  that  if  poor  Sir  John  took  no 
notice  of  it,  he  would  suffer  daily  insults  of  the  same 
kind,  out  of  pure  good  nature  resolved  to  spirit  himi  up 


Thoughts  on  Education  257 

at  least  to  some  show  of  resentment,  intending  to  make 
up  their  matter  afterwards  in  as  honourable  a  manner 
as  he  could  for  the  poor  patient.  He  represented  to 
him  very  warmly  that  no  gentleman  could  take  a  box 
on  the  ear.  Sir  John  answered  with  great  calmness,  '  I 
know  that,  but  this  was  not  a  box  on  the  ear ;  it  was 
only  a  slap  of  the  face.'  " 

Of  another  English  acquaintance  of  hers  Lady  Mary 
heard  casually — the  former  Sir  Charles  Hanbury 
Williams,  whose  lively  verses  had  been  sometimes 
attributed  to  herself.  He  had  for  some  time  been 
English  Ambassador  at  St.  Petersburg  ;  and  his 
foolish  extravagance  at  home  and  abroad  gave  her 
an  opportunity  for  moralizing  on  the  benefits  of 
economy  —  a  virtue  which  she  was  generally  credited 
with  carrying  to  excess.     As  she  writes  to  Lady  Bute : 

"  I  inquired  after  my  old  acquaintance  Sir  Charles 
Wilhams,  who  I  hear  is  much  broken,  both  in  spirits 
and  constitution.  How  happy  that  man  might  have 
been  if  there  had  been  added  to  his  natural  and 
acquired  endowments  a  dash  of  morality !  If  he  had 
known  how  to  distinguish  between  false  and  true 
felicity ;  and  instead  of  seeking  to  increase  an  estate 
already  too  large,  and  hunting  after  pleasures  that  have 
made  him  ridiculous,  he  had  bounded  his  desires  of 
wealth,  and  followed  the  dictates  of  his  conscience. 
His  servile  ambition  has  gained  him  two  yards  of  red 
ribbon,  and  an  exile  into  a  miserable  country,  where 
there  is  no  society  and  so  little  taste,  that  I  believe  he 
suffers  under  a  dearth  of  flatterers.    This  is  said  for  the 

17 


258  Thoughts  071  Eiht cation 

use  of  your  growing  sons,  whom  I  hope  no  golden 
temptations  will  induce  to  marry  women  they  cannot 
love,  or  comply  with  measures  they  do  not  approve. 
All  the  happiness  this  world  can  afford  is  more  within 
reach  than  is  generally  supposed.  Whoever  seeks 
pleasure  will  undoubtedly  find  pain  :  whoever  will 
pursue  ease  will  as  certainly  find  pleasures.  The 
world's  esteem  is  the  highest  gratification  of  human 
vanity ;  and  that  is  more  easily  obtained  in  a  moderate 
fortune  than  an  overgrown  one,  which  is  seldom 
possessed,  never  gained,  without  envy.  I  say  esteem ; 
for,  as  to  applause,  it  is  a  youthful  pursuit,  never  to 
be  forgiven  after  twenty,  and  naturally  succeeds  the 
childish  desire  of  catching  the  setting  sun,  which  I  can 
remember  running  very  hard  to  do :  a  fine  thing  truly 
'f  it  could  be  caught ;  but  experience  soon  shows  it  to 
be  impossible.  A  wise  and  honest  man  lives  to  his  own 
heart,  without  that  silly  splendour  that  makes  him  a 
prey  to  knaves,  and  which  commonly  ends  in  his 
becoming  one  of  the  fraternity.  I  am  very  glad  to  hear 
Lord  Bute's  decent  economy  sets  him  above  anything 
of  that  kind.  I  wish  it  may  become  national.  A  col- 
lective body  of  men  differs  very  little  from  a  single  man ; 
frugality  is  the  foundation  of  generosity.  I  have  often 
been  complimented  on  the  English  heroism,  who  have 
thrown  away  so  many  millions,  without  any  prospect 
of  advantage  to  themselves,  purely  to  succour  a  dis- 
tressed princess.*      I  never  could  hear  these  praises 

*  Alluding-  to  the  large  subsidies  given  by  England  to  Marir^ 
Theresa  during  the  War  of  the  Austrian  Succession, 


Thoughts  071  Education  259 

without  some  impatience ;  they  sounded  to  me  Hke 
panegyrics  made  by  the  dependents  on  the  D.  [Duke] 
of  N.  [Newcastle]  and  poor  Lord  Oxford,  bubbled  when 
they  were  commended,  and  laughed  at  when  undone. 
Some  late  events  will,  I  hope,  open  our  eyes :  we  shall 
see  we  are  an  island,  and  endeavour  to  extend  our 
commerce,  rather  than  the  Quixote  reputation  of 
redressing  wrongs  and  placing  diadems  on  heads  that 
should  be  equally  indifferent  to  us.  When  time  has 
ripened  mankind  into  common  sense,  the  name  of  con- 
queror will  be  an  odious  title.  I  could  easily  prove  that, 
had  the  Spaniards  established  a  trade  with  the  Amer- 
icans, they  would  have  enriched  their  country  more 
than  by  the  addition  of  twenty-two  kingdoms,  and  all 
the  mines  they  now  work — I  do  not  say  possess,  since, 
though  they  are  the  proprietors,  others  enjoy  the 
profits." 

This  last  passage  is  interesting,  as  setting  forth  Lady 
Mary's  own  views  on  English  policy — a  view  closely 
agreeing  with  the  notions  ascribed  to  the  Manchester 
School  of  later  times.  It  is  curious,  however,  to 
notice  how  she  condemned  Bolingbroke  for  his  un- 
patriotic haste  in  concluding  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht, 
when  her  own  son-in-law.  Lord  Bute,  had  already, 
before  her  death,  begun  to  carry  out  a  pacification, 
which  in  its  abandonment  of  allies  and  surrender  of 
advantages  was  quite  as  scandalous  as  Bolingbroke's. 
Again,  it  was  precisely  that  English  trade  which  she 
desired  to  see  extended  that  had  caused  the  wars 
which   she   condemned.     Apparently  she  expected    tQ 

17—2 


26o  Thoughts  071  Edncation 

see  war  abolished  by  the  progress  of  mankind,  which, 
to  her  idea,  had  barely  emerged  from  childhood  : 

"  When  I  reflect  on  the  vast  increase  of  useful,  as 
well  as  speculative,  knowledge  the  last  three  hundred 
years  has  produced,  and  that  the  peasants  of  this  age 
have  more  conveniences  than  the  first  emperors  of 
Rome  had  any  notion  of,  I  imagine  that  we  are  now 
arrived  at  that  period  which  answers  to  fifteen.  I  can- 
not think  we  are  older,  when  I  recollect  the  many 
palpable  follies  which  are  still  (almost)  universally 
persisted  in  :  I  place  that  of  war  amongst  the  most 
glaring,  being  fully  as  senseless  as  the  boxing  of  school- 
boys, and  whenever  we  come  to  man's  estate  (perhaps 
a  thousand  years  hence),  I  do  not  doubt  it  will  appear 
as  ridiculous  as  the  pranks  of  unluck}'  lads.  Several 
discoveries  will  then  be  made,  and  several  truths  made 
clear,  of  which  we  have  now  no  more  idea  than  the 
ancients  had  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  or  the 
optics  of  Sir  I.  Newton." 


Last   Years  and  Death  261 


CHAPTER  IX 

LAST   YEARS    AND    DEATH 

The  Last  Years  of  Lady  Mary's  Life-Senous  "'---f-j^-^J^ 
Lovere-Recovery-The  Phys.can   of  Lovere-H,s  Chanty 
Description  of  Lovere-Appearance  of  the  Town-The  Plague 
of    64-Lady  Mary  buys  an  Old  Palace-Its   Rmt>ous   Cmr- 
dtim:-Itaran  Friends -^Cardinal  Querini-His  Van,ty-He 
'r  Lad     Mary  for  Copies  of  her  WorUs-Her  Embarrass- 
ment-Death of  Querini-The  Marqu.s  Maffe>-H.s Jalace 
His   .SV,/.«-The    Doge   Griman.^Hts   V.rtue.- Lady   Mary 
suspected  of  a  Political   Mission-She   wr.tes   theH. story  of 
her  own  Time-Disputes  on  Rehgion-An  Old  ?"«='-  ^^^^ 
mental    Doctrine-A    Singular   Nunnery-The    nanquiUity   ol 
OM^e- Removal    to  Venice -Murray's   Persecut.ons-S.r 
fames  "steuart-Unprovoked  Annoyances-Fears  for  her  Pro- 
ieny-Venetian   Frlnds-Mocenigo-A  Venet.an  Marnage- 
Infirmities- Unable    to   see    English   Papet.  -  "  A   Rak      m 
Reading" -Low    Spirits  -  Suicides   af  Venice  -  Request   toi 
Chtnt^lassFuinit^ure-HoraceWalpole-His^ot^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
Fli/abeth- Female   Influence   in    Repubhcs -Literary   btyie 
riar    of    Blndness-Advice    from    ^"-'1= " A"->'f  "Vof 
Company-Lady   Mary   afraid    to  cross   the  Alps-Vanity  of 
HumT  Wishes-Epicurean   Philosophy-Sir  James   Steuarts 
"Pditical   Economy -Unwillingness   to   return   to   London- 
lourney  to   England-Letter   from   Rotterdam-Last  Letter 
Death  -Personal  Appearance-Lady.Pomfrefs  Remarks  on  her 

Beauty. 
The  last  few  years  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu's 
life  were  spent  in  much  the  same  occupations  as  she 


262  Last   Years  and  Death 

had  previously  described  in  her  letters  to  her  daughter 
— residing  at  one  or  other  of  the  towns  of  the  Venetian 
territory,  at  first  generally  near  Brescia,  but  afterwards 
alternating  between  Padua  and  Venice.  Her  life  was 
uneventful,  marked  only  by  the  approach  of  old  age 
and  the  growth  of  infirmities.  Yet  she  had  a  wonderful 
power  of  rallying  from  illness,  as  was  shown  by  the 
description  she  gives  of  her  recovery  from  a  fever — a 
result  which  may  fairly  be  ascribed  as  much  to  the 
goodness  of  her  constitution  as  to  the  "  miraculous  " 
doctor  who  attended  her.  Her  return  to  Lovere  at 
his  orders  led  her  to  take  another  residence  there. 
Probably  the  "dairy-house""  and  gardens  had  been 
given  up. 

"Lovere,  June  23,  N.S.  [1754]. 
*'  Soon  after  I  wrote  my  last  letter  to  my  dear 
child,  I  was  seized  with  so  violent  a  fever,  accompanied 
with  so  many  bad  symptoms,  my  life  was  despaired 
of  by  the  physician  of  Gottolengo,  and  I  prepared 
myself  for  death  with  as  much  resignation  as  that 
circumstance  admits  :  some  of  my  neighbours,  with- 
out my  knowledge,  sent  express  for  the  doctor  of  this 
place,  whom  I  have  mentioned  to  you  formerly  as 
having  uncommon  secrets.  I  was  surprised  to  see 
him  at  my  bedside.  He  declared  me  in  great  danger, 
but  did  not  doubt  my  recovery,  if  I  was  wholly  under 
his  care  ;  and  his  first  prescription  was  transporting 
me  hither ;  the  other  physician  asserted  positively  I 
should  die  on  the  road.  It  has  always  been  my 
opinion  that  it  is  a  matter  of  the  utmost  indifference 


Last   Years  and  DeatJi  263 

where  we  expire,  and  I  consented  to  be  removed.  My 
bed  was  placed  on  a  brancard  ;  my  servants  followed 
in  chaises  ;  and  in  this  equipage  I  set  out.  I  bore  the 
first  day's  journey  of  fifteen  miles  without  any  visible 
alteration.  The  doctor  said,  as  I  was  not  worse,  I 
was  certainly  better ;  and  the  next  day  proceeded 
twenty  miles  to  Iseo,  which  is  at  the  head  of  this  lake. 
I  lay  each  night  at  noblemen's  houses,  which  were 
empty.  My  cook,  with  my  physician,  always  preceded 
two  or  three  hours,  and  I  found  my  chamber,  and  all 
necessaries,  ready  prepared  with  the  exactest  attention. 
I  was  put  into  a  bark  in  my  litter  bed,  and  in  three 
hours  arrived  here.  My  spirits  were  not  at  all  wasted 
(I  think  rather  raised)  by  the  fatigue  of  my  journey.  I 
drank  the  water  next  morning,  and,  with  a  few  doses 
of  my  physician's  prescription,  in  three  days  found 
myself  in  perfect  health,  which  appeared  almost  a 
miracle  to  all  that  saw  me.  You  may  imagine  I  am 
willing  to  submit  to  the  orders  of  one  that  I  must 
acknowledge  the  instrument  of  saving  my  life,  though 
they  are  not  entirely  conformable  to  my  will  and 
pleasure.  He  has  sentenced  me  to  a  long  continuance 
here,  which,  he  says,  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the 
confirmation  of  my  health,  and  would  persuade  me 
that  my  illness  has  been  wholly  owing  to  my  omission 
of  drinking  the  waters  these  two  years  past.  I  dare 
not  contradict  him,  and  must  own  he  deserves  (from 
the  various  surprising  cures  I  have  seen)  the  name 
given  to  him  in  this  country  of  the  miraculous  man. 
Both    his    character  and   practice    are   so    singular,   I 


264  Last   Years  and  Death 

cannot  forbear  giving  you  some  account  of  them.     He 
will  not  permit  his  patients  to  have  either  surgeon  or 
apothecary  :  he  performs  all  the  operations  of  the  first 
with   great    dexterity;    and    whatever   compounds    he 
gives,  he  makes  in  his  own  house  :  those  are  very  few  ; 
the  juice  of  herbs,  and  these  waters,  being  commonly 
his  sole  prescriptions.     He  has  very  little  learning,  and 
professes  drawing  all  his  knowledge  from  experience, 
which  he  possesses,  perhaps,  in  a  greater  degree  than 
any  other    mortal,   being    the    seventh    doctor    of  his 
family  in    a    direct   line.     His  forefathers  have   all   of 
them   left  journals  and  registers  solely  for  the  use  of 
their  posterity,  none   of  them   having   published   any- 
thing ;  and  he  has  recourse  to  these  manuscripts  on 
every  difficult  case,  the  veracity  of  which,  at  least,  is 
unquestionable.     His  vivacity  is  prodigious,  and  he  is 
indefatigable  in   his  industry :   but   what   most   distin- 
guishes him  is  a  disinterestedness  I  never  saw  in  any 
other  :  he  is  as  regular  in  his  attendance  on  the  poorest 
peasant,  from  whom  he  never  can  receive  one  farthing, 
as  on  the  richest  of  the  nobility ;  and,  whenever  he  is 
wanted,  will  climb  three  or  four  miles  in  the  mountains, 
in  the  hottest  sun,   or   heaviest  rain,  where  a  horse 
cannot   go,    to    arrive    at    a   cottage,    where,    if    their 
condition    requires    it,    he    does    not    only    give    them 
advice    and    medicines    gratis,    but    bread,    wine,    and 
whatever  is  needful.     There  never  passes  a  week  with- 
out one  or  more  of  these  expeditions.     His  last  visit  is 
generally  to  me.     I  often  see  him  as  dirty  and  tired  as 
a  foot  post,  having  eat  nothing  all  day  but  a  roll  or  two 


Last   Years  and  Death  265 

that  he  carries  in  his  pocket,  yet  blest  with  such  a 
perpetual  flow  of  spirits,  he  is  always  gay  to  a  degree 
above  cheerfulness.  There  is  a  peculiarity  in  his 
character  that  I  hope  will  incline  3'ou  to  forgive  my 
drawing  it. 

'*  I  have  already  described  to  you  this  extraordinary 
spot  of  earth,  which  is  almost  unknown  to  the  rest  of 
the  world,  and  indeed  does  not  seem  to  be  destined  by 
nature  to  be  inhabited  by  human  creatures,  and  I 
believe  would  never  have  been  so,  without  the  cruel 
civil  war  between  the  Guelphs  and  Ghibelines.  Before 
that  time  here  were  only  the  huts  of  a  few  fishermen, 
who  came  at  certain  seasons  on  account  of  the  fine 
fish  with  which  this  lake  abounds,  particularly  trouts, 
as  large  and  red  as  salmon.  The  lake  itself  is  different 
from  any  other  I  ever  saw  or  read  of,  being  the  colour 
of  the  sea,  rather  deeper  tinged  with  green,  which 
convinces  me  that  the  surrounding  mountains  are  full 
of  minerals,  and  it  may  be  rich  in  mines  yet  undis- 
covered, as  well  as  quarries  of  marble,  from  whence 
the  churches  and  houses  are  ornamented,  and  even 
the  streets  paved,  which,  if  polished  and  laid  with  art, 
would  look  like  the  finest  mosaic  work,  being  a  variety 
of  beautiful  colours.  I  ought  to  retract  the  honourable 
title  of  street,  none  of  them  being  broader  than  an 
alley,  and  impassable  for  any  wheel-carriage,  except  a 
wheel-barrow.  This  town  (which  is  the  largest  of 
twenty-five  that  are  built  on  the  banks  of  the  lake)  is 
near  two  miles  long,  and  the  figure  of  a  semicircle. 
If  it  was  a  regular  range  of  building,  it  would  appear 

V  UNIVERSITY  ] 


266  Last   Years  and  Death 

magnificent  ;  but,  being  founded  accidentally  by  those 
who  sought  a  refuge  from  the  violences  of  those  bloody 
times,  it  is  a  mixture  of  shops  and  palaces,  gardens 
and  houses,  which  ascend  a  mile  high,  in  a  confusion 
which  is  not  disagreeable.     After  this  salutary   water 
was  found,  and  the  purity  of  the  air  experienced,  many 
people  of  quality  chose  it  for  their  summer  residence, 
and  embellished  it  with  several  fine  edifices.     It  was 
populous  and  flourishing,  till  that  fatal  plague  which 
overran    all    Europe    in    the   year    1626.      It    made    a 
terrible  ravage  in  this  place  :  the   poor   were  almost 
destroyed,  and  the  rich  deserted  it.     Since  that  time 
it   has  never  recovered  its  former  splendour  ;  few  of 
the  nobility  returned  ;  it  is  now  only  frequented  during 
the   water-drinking    season.      Several    of  the    ancient 
palaces  [are]  degraded  into  lodging-houses  and  others 
stand  empty  in  a  ruinous  condition  :  one  of  these  I 
have  bought.     I  see  you  lift  up  your  eyes  in  w^onder  at 
my  indiscretion.     I  beg  you  to  hear  my  reasons  before 
you  condemn  me.     In  my  infirm  state  of  health   the 
unavoidable    noise    of   a    public    lodging    is   very   dis- 
agreeable ;  and  here  is  no  private  one  :  secondly,  and 
chiefly,  the  whole  purchase  is  but  one  hundred  pounds, 
with  a  very  prett}'  garden  in    terraces   down   to   the 
water,  and  a  court  behind  the  house.     It  is  founded 
on  a  rock,  and  the  walls  so  thick,  they  wdll  probably 
remain  as  long  as  the  earth.      It  is  true,  the  apartments 
are  in  most  tattered  circumstances,  without  doors  or 
windows.     The  beauty  of  the  great  saloon  gained  my 
affection  :   it  is  forty -two  feet  in  length  by  twenty-five. 


Last   Years  and  Death  267 

proportionably  high,  opening  into  a  balcony  of  the 
same  length,  with  marble  balusters  :  the  ceiling  and 
flooring  are  in  good  repair,  but  I  have  been  forced  to 
the  expense  of  covering  the  wall  with  new  stucco  ;  and 
the  carpenter  is  at  this  minute  taking  measure  of  the 
windows,  in  order  to  make  frames  for  sashes.  The 
great  stairs  are  in  such  a  declining  way,  it  would  be  a 
very  hazardous  exploit  to  mount  them  :  I  never  intend 
to  attempt  it.  The  state  bedchamber  shall  also  remain 
for  the  sole  use  of  the  spiders  that  have  taken  posses- 
sion of  it,  along  with  the  grand  cabinet,  and  some  other 
pieces  of  magnificence,  quite  useless  to  me,  and  which 
w^ould  cost  a  great  deal  to  make  habitable.  I  have 
fitted  up  six  rooms,  with  lodgings  for  five  servants, 
which  are  all  I  ever  will  have  in  this  place  ;  and  I  am 
persuaded  that  I  could  make  a  profit  if  I  would  part 
with  my  purchase,  having  been  very  much  befriended 
in  the  sale,  which  was  by  auction,  the  owner  having 
died  without  children,  and  I  believe  he  had  never  seen 
this  mansion  in  his  life,  it  having  stood  empty  from 
the  death  of  his  grandfather.  The  Governor  bid  for 
me,  and  nobody  would  bid  against  him.  Thus  I  am 
become  a  citizen  of  Lovere,  to  the  great  joy  of  the 
inhabitants,  not  (as  they  would  pretend)  from  their 
respect  for  my  person,  but  I  perceive  they  fancy  I 
shall  attract  all  the  travelling  English  ;  and,  to  say  the 
truth,  the  singularity  of  the  place  is  well  worth  their 
curiosity;  but,  as  I  have  no  correspondents,  I  may  be 
buried  here  fifty  years,  and  nobody  know  anything  of 
the  matter." 


268  Last    Years  and  Death 

It  was  this  hope  of  protit  from  EngUsh  visitors  that 
induced  the  people  of  Lovere  to  offer  the  honour  of  a 
statue  to  Lady  Mary  ;  but  they  must  have  been  also 
actuated  by  more  local  considerations.  The  Doge  of 
Venice,  Grimani,  was  her  old  friend,  and  when  he  died 
she  had  still  the  favour  of  the  Archbishop  of  Brescia, 
Cardinal  Querini,  an  ecclesiastic  of  some  learning  and 
great  pretensions  : 

'•'  I  have  not  yet  lost  all  my  interest  in  this  country 
by  the  death  of  the  Doge,  having  another  very  con- 
siderable friend,  though  I  cannot  expect  to  keep  him 
long,  he  being  near  fourscore.  I  mean  the  Cardinal 
Querini,  who  is  Archbishop  of  this  diocese,  and  con- 
sequently of  great  power,  there  being  not  one  family, 
high  or  low,  in  this  province,  that  has  not  some 
ecclesiastic  in  it,  and  therefore  all  of  them  have  some 
dependence  on  him.  He  is  of  one  of  the  tirst  families 
of  Venice,  vastly  rich  of  himself,  and  has  many  great 
benefices  beside  his  archbishopric;  but  these  advantages 
are  little  in  his  eyes,  in  comparison  of  being  the  first 
author  (as  he  fancies)  at  this  day  in  Christendom  ;  and 
indeed,  if  the  merit  of  the  books  consisted  in  bulk  and 
number,  he  might  very  justly  claim  that  character.  I 
believe  he  has  published,  yearly,  several  volumes  for 
above  fifty  years,  beside  corresponding  with  all  the 
literati  of  Europe,  and,  among  these,  several  of  the 
senior  fellows  at  Oxford,  and  some  members  of  the 
Royal  Society,  that  neither  you  nor  I  ever  heard  of, 
who  he  is  persuaded  are  the  most  eminent  men  in 
England.     He  is  at  present   employed  in  writing  his 


Last   Years  and  Death  269 

own  life,   of  which    he    has   already   printed    the  first 
tome  ;  and  if  he  goes  on  in  the  same  style,  it  will  be  a 
most   voluminous  performance.     He  begins  from  the 
moment  of  his  birth,  and  tells  us  that,  in  that  day,  he 
made  such  extraordinary  faces,  the  midwife,  chamber- 
maids, and   nurses  all  agreed,  that  there  was  born  a 
shining  light  in  church   and  state.     You'll  think   me 
very  merry  with  the  failings  of  my  friend.     I  confess  I 
ought  to  forgive  a  vanity  to  which  I  am  obliged  for 
many  good  offices,  since  I  do  not  doubt  it  is  owing  to 
that,  that  he  professes  himself  so  highly  attached  to 
my  service,  having  an  opinion  that  my  suffrage  is  of 
great  weight  in  the  learned  world,  and  that  I  shall  not 
fail  to  spread  his  fame,  at  least,  all  over  Great  Britain. 
He  sent  me  a  present  last  week  of  a  very  uncommon 
kind,  even  his  own  picture,  extremely  well  done,  but 
so  flattering,  it   is    a   young   old    man,   with   a    most 
pompous  inscription  under  it.     I  suppose  he  intended 
it  for  the  ornament  of  my  library,  not  knowing  it  is 
only  a   closet:  however,  these  distinctions  he  shows 
me,  give  me  a  figure  in  this  town,  where  everybody 
has  something  to  hope  from  him  ;  and  it  was  certainly 
in  a  view  to  that  they  would  have  complimented  me 
with  a  statue,  for  I  would  not  have  you  mistake  so  far 
as  to  imagine  there  is  any  set  of  people  more  grateful 
or  generous  than  another.     Mankind  is  everywhere  the 
same  :  like  cherries  or  apples,  they  may  differ  in  size, 
shape,    or    colour,    from    different    soils,    chmate,    or 
culture,  but  are  still  essentially  the  same  species  ;  and 
the  little   black  wood   cherry  is  not  nearer  akin  to  the 


2/0  Last    Years  a7id  Death 

[may-]dukes  that  are  served  at  great  tables,  than  the 
wild,  naked  negro  to  the  fine  figures  adorned  with 
coronets  and  ribands.  This  observation  might  be 
carried  yet  further  :  all  animals  are  stimulated  by  the 
same  passions,  and  act  very  near  alike,  as  far  as  we 
are  capable  of  observing  them.*' 

Unfortunately  this  friendship  was  troubled  for  a 
time  by  that  which  caused  most  of  Lady  Mary's 
troubles — her  literary  tastes.  Formerly  she  had  been 
assailed  by  Pope  for  writing  libels  which  she  very 
probably  had  nothing  to  do  with  ;  now  she  was 
threatened  with  losing^  Ouerini's  favour  for  want  of 
producing  her  works  in  numerous  volumes. 

She  writes  plaintively  to  her  daughter:  "This  letter 
will  be  very  dull  or  very  peevish  (perhaps  both).  I  am 
at  present  much  out  of  humour,  being  on  the  edge  of  a 
quarrel  with  my  friend  and  patron,  the  C.  [Cardinal]. 
He  is  really  a  good-natured  and  generous  man,  and 
spends  his  vast  revenue  in  (what  he  thinks)  the  service 
of  his  country,  besides  contributing  largely  to  the 
building  of  a  new  cathedral,  which,  when  finished,  will 
stand  in  the  rank  of  fine  churches  (where  he  has 
already  the  comfort  of  seeing  his  own  busto),  finely 
done  both  within  and  without.  He  has  founded  a 
magnificent  college  for  one  hundred  scholars,  which  I 
don't  doubt  he  will  endow  very  nobly,  and  greatly 
enlarged  and  embellished  his  episcopal  palace.  He 
has  joined  to  it  a  public  library,  which,  when  I  saw  it, 
was  a  very  beautiful  room  :  it  is  now  finished  and 
furnished,    and    open    twice    in    a    week   with    proper 


Last  Years  and  Death  271 

attendance.  Yesterday  here  arrived  one  of  his  chief 
chaplains,  with  a  long  compliment,  which  concluded 
with  desiring  I  would  send  him  my  works ;  having 
dedicated  one  of  his  cases  to  English  books,  he 
intended  my  labours  should  appear  in  the  most  con- 
spicuous place.  I  was  struck  dumb  for  some  time 
with  this  astonishing  request ;  when  I  recovered  my 
vexatious  surprise  (foreseeing  the  consequence),  I 
made  answer,  I  was  highly  sensible  of  the  honour 
designed  me,  but,  upon  my  word,  I  had  never  printed 
a  single  line  in  my  life.  I  was  answered  in  a  cold 
tone,  his  eminence  could  send  for  them  to  England, 
but  they  would  be  a  long  time  coming,  and  with  some 
hazard ;  and  that  he  had  flattered  himself  I  would  not 
refuse  him  such  a  favour,  and  I  need  not  be  ashamed 
of  seeing  my  name  in  a  collection  where  he  admitted 
none  but  the  most  eminent  authors.  It  was  to  no 
purpose  to  endeavour  to  convince  him.  He  would  not 
stay  dinner,  though  earnestly  invited  ;  and  went  away 
with  the  air  of  one  that  thought  he  had  reason  to  be 
offended.  I  know  his  master  will  have  the  same 
sentiments,  and  I  shall  pass  in  his  opinion  for  a 
monster  of  ingratitude,  while  it  is  the  blackest  of 
vices  in  my  opinion,  and  of  which  I  am  utterly 
incapable — I  really  could  cry  for  vexation. 

'*  Sure  nobody  ever  had  such  various  provocations 
to  print  as  myself.  I  have  seen  things  I  have  wrote,  so 
mangled  and  falsified,  I  have  scarce  known  them.  I 
have  seen  poems  I  never  read,  published  with  my 
name  at  length ;  and  others,  that  were  truly  and  singly 


272  Last    Years  and  Death 

wrote  by  me,  printed  under  the  names  of  others.  I 
have  made  myself  easy  under  all  these  mortifications, 
by  the  reflection  I  did  not  deserve  them,  having  never 
ajmed  at  the  vanity  of  popular  applause ;  but  I  own 
m}'  philosophy  is  not  proof  against  losing  a  friend,  and 
it  may  be  making  an  enemy  of  one  to  whom  I  am 
obliged." 

In  1755,  the  year  after  the  preceding  letter  was 
written,  the  Cardinal  died  : 

"  My  old  friend  the  Cardinal  [Querini]  is  dead  of  an 
apoplectic  fit,  which  I  am  sorry  for,  notwithstanding 
the  disgust  that  happened  between  us,  on  the  ridiculous 
account  of  which  I  gave  you  the  history  a  year  ago. 
His  memor}'  will,  probably,  last  as  long  as  this  province, 
having  embellished  it  with  so  many  noble  structures, 
particularly  a  public  library  well  furnished,  richly 
adorned,  and  a  college  built  for  poor  scholars,  with 
salaries  for  masters,  and  plentifully  endowed  :  many 
charitable  foundations,  and  so  large  a  part  of  the  new 
cathedral  (which  will  be  one  of  the  finest  churches  in 
Lombardy)  has  been  built  at  his  expense,  he  may  be 
almost  called  the  founder  of  it.  He  has  left  a  consider- 
able annuity  to  continue  it,  and  deserves  an  eminent 
place  among  the  few  prelates  that  have  devoted  what 
they  received  from  the  Church  to  the  use  of  the  public, 
which  is  not  here  (as  in  some  countries)  so  ungrateful 
to  overlook  benefits.  Man}-  statues  have  been  erected, 
and  medals  cast  to  his  honour,  one  of  which  has  the 
figures  of  Piety,  Learning,  and  Munificence,  on  the 
reverse,    in    the    attitude    of    the    three    Graces.       His 


Last    Years  and  Death  273 

funeral  has  been  celebrated  by  the  city  with  all  the 
splendour  it  was  capable  of  bestowing,  and  waited  on 
by  all  ranks  of  the  inhabitants." 

His  death  was  followed  by  that  of  a  more  eminent 
virtuoso : 

"  This  year  has  been  fatal  to  the  literati  of  Italy. 
The  Marquis  Maffei  soon  followed  Cardinal  Querini. 
He  was  in  England  when  you  were  married.  Perhaps 
you  may  remember  his  coming  to  see  your  father's 
Greek  inscription ;  *  he  was  then  an  old  man,  and 
consequently  now  a  great  age ;  but  preserved  his 
memory  and  senses  in  their  first  vigour.  After  having 
made  the  tour  of  Europe  in  the  search  of  antiquities, 
he  fixed  his  residence  in  his  native  town  of  Verona, 
where  he  erected  himself  a  little  empire,  from  the 
general  esteem,  and  a  conversation  (so  they  call  an 
assembly)  which  he  established  in  his  palace,  which  is 
one  of  the  largest  in  that  place,  and  so  luckily  situated, 
that  it  is  between  the  theatre  and  the  ancient  amphi- 
theatre. He  made  piazzas  leading  to  each  of  them, 
filled  with  shops,  where  were  sold  coffee,  tea,  chocolate, 
all  sort  of  cool  [drinks  ?]  and  sweetmeats,  and  in  the 
midst,  a  court  well  kept,  and  sanded,  for  the  use  of 
those  young  gentlemen  who  would  exercise  their 
managed  horses,  or  show  their  mistresses  their  skill  in 
riding.  His  gallery  was  open  every  evening  at  five 
o'clock,  where  he  had  a  fine  collection  of  antiquities, 
and    two    large    cabinets    of    medals,    intaglios,    and 

■^  The  inscription  from  the  Troas,  ah-eady  mentioned,  which  was 
given  by  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu  to  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 

18 


2  74  Last   Years  and  Death 

cameos,  ranged  in  exact  order.  His  library  joined  to 
it ;  and  on  the  other  side  a  suite  of  five  rooms,  the  first 
of  which  was  destined  to  dancing,  the  second  to  cards 
(but  all  games  of  hazard  excluded),  and  the  others 
(where  he  himself  presided  in  an  easy-chair)  sacred  to 
conversation,  which  always  turned  upon  some  point 
of  learning,  either  historical  or  poetical.  Controversy 
and  politics  being  utterly  prohibited,  he  generally 
proposed  the  subject,  and  took  great  delight  in 
instructing  the  young  people,  w'ho  were  obliged  to 
seek  the  medal,  or  explain  the  inscription,  that  illus- 
trated any  fact  they  discoursed  of.  Those  who  chose 
the  diversion  of  the  public  walks,  or  theatre,  went 
thither,  but  never  failed  returning  to  give  an  account 
of  the  drama,  which  produced  a  critical  dissertation 
on  that  subject,  the  Marquis  having  given  shining 
proofs  of  his  skill  in  that  art.  His  tragedy  of  Merope, 
which  is  much  injured  by  Voltaire's  translation,  being 
esteemed  a  masterpiece ;  and  his  comedy  of  the 
Ceremonies,  being  so  just  a  ridicule  of  those  formal 
fopperies,  it  has  gone  a  great  way  in  helping  to  banish 
them  out  of  Italy." 

Pietro  Grimani,  the  Doge  of  Venice,  Lady  Mary's 
old  friend,  had  died  in  1752,  much  to  her  grief: 

**  He  is  lamented  here  by  all  ranks  of  people,  as  their 
common  parent.  He  really  answered  the  idea  of  Lord 
Bolingbroke's  imaginary  Patriot  Prince,  and  was  the 
only  example  I  ever  knew  of  having  passed  through  the 
greatest  employments,  and  most  important  negotiations, 
without  ever  making  an  enemy.    When  I  was  at  Venice, 


Last   Years  and  Death  275 

which  was  some  months  before  his  election,  he  was  the 
leading  voice  in  the  senate,  and  possessed  of  so  strong 
a  popularity  as  would  have  been  dangerous  in  the  hands 
of  a  bad  man  :  yet  he  had  the  art  to  silence  envy ;  and 
I   never  once  heard  an  objection  to  his  character,  or 
even  an   insinuation  to  his  disadvantage.     I  attribute 
this   peculiar   happiness    to    be   owing   to   the    sincere 
benevolence  of  his  heart,  joined  with  an  easy  cheerful- 
ness of  temper,  which  made  him  agreeable  to  all  com- 
panies, and  a  blessing  to  all  his  dependents.     Authority 
appeared  so  aimahle  in  him,  no  one  wished  it  less,  except 
himself,  who  would  sometimes  lament  the  weight  of  it, 
as  robbing  him  too  much  of  the  conversation  of  his 
friends,  in  which  he  placed  his  chief  delight,  being  so 
little  ambitious,   that   (to  my  certain    knowledge),   far 
from  caballing  to  gain  that  elevation  to  which  he  was 
raised,  he  would  have  refused  it,  if  he  had  not  looked 
upon  the  acceptance  of  it  as  a  duty  due  to  his  country. 
This  is  only  speaking  of  him  in  the  public  light.     As 
to    myself,   he   always  professed,   and    gave    me   every 
demonstration  of,  the  most  cordial  friendship.     Indeed, 
I   received   every  good   office  from   him  I   could  have 
expected    from    a    tender    father,  or   a    kind    brother ; 
and  though   I  have  not  seen   him    since   my  last    re- 
turn   to    Italy,  he    never  omitted    an   opportunity    of 
expressing    the    greatest  regard  for    me,   both    in    his 
discourse  to  others,  and  upon  all  occasions  where   he 
thought  he  could  be  useful  to  me.     I  do  not  doubt  I 
shall  very  sensibly  miss  the  influence  of  his  good  in- 
tentions.' 

18—2 


276  Last  Years  and  Death 

But,  as  before,  Lady  Mary  was  not  dependent  on 
her  Italian  friends  for  occupying  her  time.  She 
probably  read  as  much  as  ever,  though  there  are  fewer 
allusions  to  books  in  the  published  letters ;  and  she 
wrote  letters  so  voluminous  as  to  excite  political 
suspicion. 

**An  old  priest  made  me  a  visit  as  I  was  folding  my 
last  packet  to  my  daughter.  Observing  it  to  be  large, 
he  told  me  I  had  done  a  great  deal  of  business  that 
morning.  I  made  answer,  I  had  done  no  business  at 
all ;  I  had  only  wrote  to  my  daughter  on  family  affairs, 
or  such  trifles  as  make  up  women's  conversation.  He 
said  gravely.  People  like  your  excellenza  do  not  use  to 
write  long  letters  upon  trifles.  I  assured  him,  that  if 
he  understood  English,  I  would  let  him  read  my  letter. 
He  replied,  with  a  mysterious  smile.  If  I  did  under- 
stand English,  I  should  not  understand  what  you  have 
written,  except  you  would  give  me  the  key,  which  I 
durst  not  presume  to  ask.  What  key  ?  (said  I,  staring) 
there  is  not  one  cypher  besides  the  date.  He  answered, 
cyphers  were  only  used  by  novices  in  politics,  and  it 
was  very  easy  to  write  intelligibly,  under  feigned  names 
of  persons  and  places,  to  a  correspondent,  in  such  a 
manner  as  should  be  almost  impossible  to  be  under- 
stood by  anybody  else. 

"Thus  I  suppose  my  innocent  epistles  are  severely 
scrutinised  :  and  when  I  talk  of  my  grandchildren, 
they  are  fancied  to  represent  all  the  potentates  of 
Europe.  This  is  very  provoking.  I  confess  there  are 
good  reasons  for  extraordinary  caution  at  this  juncture; 


Last   Years  and  Death  277 

but  'tis  very  hard  I  cannot  pass  for  being  as  insignifi- 
cant as  I  really  am." 

Not  only  did  she  go  on  with  her  correspondence,  but 
amused  herself  with  writing  memoirs — though  unfortu- 
nately they  have  not,  like  those  of  her  friend  Lord 
Hervey,  been  allowed  to  come  down  to  us  by  the 
author.  Perhaps,  however,  in  destroying  her  work, 
she  only  anticipated  the  action  of  her  daughter. 

"  You  will  confess  my  employment  much  more 
trifling  than  yours,  when  I  own  to  you  (between  you 
and  I)  that  my  chief  amusement  is  writing  the  history 
of  my  own  time.  It  has  been  my  fortune  to  have  a 
more  exact  knowledge  both  of  the  persons  and  facts 
that  have  made  the  greatest  figure  in  England  in  this 
age,  than  is  common  ;  and  I  take  pleasure  in  putting 
together  what  I  know,  with  an  impartiality  that  is 
altogether  unusual.  Distance  of  time  and  place  has 
totally  blotted  from  my  mind  all  traces  either  of  resent- 
ment or  prejudice  ;  and  I  speak  with  the  same  indif- 
ference of  the  court  of  G.  B.  [Great  Britain]  as  I 
should  do  of  that  of  Augustus  Caesar.  I  hope  you 
have  not  so  ill  an  opinion  of  me  to  think  I  am  turning 
author  in  my  old  age.  I  can  assure  you  I  regularly 
burn  every  quire  as  soon  as  it  is  finished  ;  and  mean 
nothing  more  than  to  divert  my  solitary  hours.  I 
know  mankind  too  well  to  think  they  are  capable  of 
receiving  the  truth,  much  less  of  applauding  it :  or, 
were  it  otherwise,  applause  to  me  is  as  insignificant  as 
garlands  on  the  dead." 

Lady  Mary  seems  to  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  the 


278  Last   Years  and  Death 

priests  of  the  country.  We  have  seen  that  she  invited 
them  in  to  play  whist ;  and  they,  or  some  of  them, 
were  anxious  to  repay  her  hospitaHty  by  converting 
her  from  her  heresy.  However,  she  was  a  stanch 
Protestant,  and  well  grounded  in  the  reasons  for  her 
religion  ;  and  when  it  came  to  controversy,  according 
to  her  own  account,  she  carried  too  many  guns  for  her 
clerical  assailants. 

"  I  have  never  been  attacked  a  second  time  in  any  of 
the  towns  where  I  have  resided,  and  perhaps  shall 
never  be  so  again  after  my  last  battle,  which  was  with 
an  old  priest,  a  learned  man,  particularly  esteemed  as 
a  mathematician,  and  who  has  a  head  and  heart  as 
warm  as  poor  Whiston's.  When  I  first  came  hither,  he 
visited  me  every  day,  and  talked  of  me  everywhere  with 
such  violent  praise,  that,  had  we  been  young  people. 
God  knows  what  would  have  been  said.  I  have  always 
the  advantage  of  being  quite  calm  on  a  subject  which 
they  cannot  talk  of  without  heat.  He  desired  I  would 
put  on  paper  what  I  had  said.  I  immediately  wrote 
one  side  of  a  sheet,  leaving  the  other  for  his  answer. 
He  carried  it  with  him,  promising  to  bring  it  the  next 
day,  since  which  time  I  have  never  seen  it,  though  I 
have  often  demanded  it,  being  ashamed  of  my  defective 
Italian.  I  fancy  he  sent  it  to  his  friend  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Milan.  I  have  given  over  asking  for  it,  as  a 
desperate  debt.  He  still  visits  me,  but  seldom,  and  in 
a  cold  sort  of  a  way.  When  I  have  found  disputants  I 
less  respected,  I  have  sometimes  taken  pleasure  in 
raising   their    hopes    by    my    concessions :    they    are 


Last   Years  and  Death  279 

charmed  when  I  agree  with  them  in  the  number  of  the 
sacraments  ;  but  are  horribly  disappointed  when  I 
explain  myself  by  saying  the  word  sacrament  is  not  to 
be  found  either  in  Old  or  New  Testament ;  and  one 
must  be  very  ignorant  not  to  know  it  is  taken  from  the 
listing  oath  of  the  Roman  soldiers,  and  means  nothing 
more  than  a  solemn,  irrevocable  engagement.  Parents 
vow,  in  infant  baptism,  to  educate  their  children  in  the 
Christian  religion,  which  they  take  upon  themselves  by 
confirmation  ;  the  Lord's  Supper  is  frequently  renew- 
ing the  same  oath.  Ordination  and  matrimony  are 
solemn  vows  of  a  different  kind  :  confession  includes  a 
vow  of  revealing  all  we  know,  and  reforming  what  is 
amiss  :  extreme  unction,  the  last  vow,  that  we  have 
lived  in  the  faith  we  were  baptised  :  in  this  sense  they 
are  all  sacraments.  As  to  the  mysteries  preached 
since,  they  are  all  invented  long  after,  and  some  of 
them  repugnant  to  the  primitive  institution." 

Whether,  however,  Lady  Mary's  doctrine  concerning 
the  sacraments  would  be  thought  that  of  a  good 
Churchwoman  may  reasonably  be  doubted.  She 
certainly  had  an  instinctive  repulsion  from  mysticism 
of  all  kinds,  and  from  asceticism ;  and  while  she 
regarded  monasteries  in  general  as  pernicious  institu- 
tions, she  reserved  her  approval  for  a  decidedly  worldly 
sort  of  convent : 

"  I  have  little  to  say  from  this  solitude,  having 
already  sent  you  a  description  of  my  garden,  which, 
with  my  books,  takes  up  all  my  time.  I  made  a  small 
excursion   last  week  to  visit   a  nunner}^  twelve  miles 


28o  Last   Years  and  Death 

from  hence,  which  is  the  only  institution  of  the  kind 
in  all  Italy.  It  is  in  a  town  in  the  state  of  Mantua, 
founded  by  a  princess  of  the  house  of  Gonzaga,  one  of 
whom  (now  very  old)  is  the  present  abbess :  they  are 
dressed  in  black,  and  wear  a  thin  cypress  veil  at  the 
back  of  their  heads,  excepting  which,  they  have  no 
mark  of  a  religious  habit,  being  set  out  in  their  hair, 
and  having  no  guimpe,  but  wearing  des  collets  monies, 
for  which  I  have  no  name  in  English,  but  you  may 
have  seen  them  in  very  old  pictures,  being  in  fashion 
both  before  and  after  ruffs.  Their  house  is  a  very  large 
handsome  building,  though  not  regular,  every  sister 
having  liberty  to  build  her  own  apartment  to  her  taste, 
which  consists  of  as  many  rooms  as  she  pleases ;  they 
have  each  a  separate  kitchen,  and  keep  cooks  and  what 
other  servants  they  think  proper,  though  there  is  a 
very  fine  public  refectory :  they  are  permitted  to  dine 
in  private  whenever  they  please.  Their  garden  is  very 
large,  and  the  most  adorned  of  any  in  these  parts. 
They  have  no  grates,  and  make  what  visits  they  will, 
always  two  together,  and  receive  those  of  the  men  as 
well  as  ladies.  I  was  accompanied  when  I  went  with 
all  the  nobility  of  the  town,  and  they  showed  me  all 
the  house,  without  excluding  the  gentlemen ;  but  what 
I  think  the  most  remarkable  privilege  is  a  country 
house,  which  belongs  to  them,  three  miles  from  the 
town,  where  they  pass  every  vintage,  and  at  any  time 
any  four  of  them  ma}-  take  their  pleasure  there,  for  as 
many  days  as  they  choose.  They  seem  to  differ  from 
the   chanoinesses    of    Flanders     onlv    in    their    vow    of 


Last   Years  and  Death  281 

celibac}^  They  take  pensioners,  but  only  those  of 
quality.  I  saw  here  a  niece  of  General  Brown.* 
Those  that  profess,  are  obliged  to  prove  a  descent  as 
noble  as  the  knights  of  Malta.  Upon  the  whole,  I 
think  it  the  most  agreeable  community  I  have  seen,  and 
their  behaviour  more  decent  than  that  of  the  cloistered 
nuns,  who  I  have  heard  say  themselves,  that  the  grate 
permits  all  liberty  of  speech  since  it  leaves  them  no 
other,  and  indeed  they  generally  talk  according  to  that 
maxim.  My  house  at  Avignon  joined  to  a  monastery, 
which  gave  me  occasion  to  know  a  great  deal  of  their 
conduct,  which  (though  the  convent  of  the  best  reputa- 
tion in  that  town,  where  there  is  fourteen)  was  such,  as 
I  would  as  soon  put  a  girl  into  the  playhouse  for  educa- 
tion as  send  her  among  them." 

Probably  these  quiet  years  were  among  the  happiest 
of  Lady  Mary's  life,  before  the  infirmities  of  age 
became  burdensome  to  her,  and  after  she  had  given  up 
her  former  ambitions.  It  was  the  Indian  summer  of 
her  life.     She  writes  to  her  daughter  : 

''  I  no  more  expect  to  arrive  at  the  age  of  the 
Duchess  of  Marlborough  than  to  that  of  Methusalem  ; 
neither  do  I  desire  it.  I  have  long  thought  myself 
useless  to  the  world.  I  have  seen  one  generation  pass 
away ;  and  it  is  gone ;  for  I  think  there  are  very  few 
of  those  left  that  flourished   in  my  youth.     You  will 

*  There  were  several  Browns  and  Brownes  who  distinguished 
themselves  in  war  about  this  time  ;  but  Lady  Mary  probably  meant 
Count  Browne,  in  the  Austrian  service,  the  brave  General  who  was 
mortally  wounded  at  the  battle  of  Prague,  1757. 


282  Last    Year's  and  Death 

perhaps  call  these  melancholy  reflections  :  they  are  not 
so.  There  is  a  quiet  after  the  abandoning  of  pursuits, 
something  like  the  rest  that  follows  a  laborious  day.  I 
tell  you  this  for  your  comfort.  It  was  formerly  a 
terrifying  view  to  me,  that  I  should  one  day  be  an  old 
woman.  I  now  find  that  Nature  has  provided 
pleasures  for  every  state.  Those  are  only  unhappy 
who  will  not  be  contented  with  what  she  gives,  but 
strive  to  break  through  her  laws,  by  affecting  a  per- 
petuity of  youth,  which  appears  to  me  as  little  desirable 
at  present  as  the  babies*  do  to  you,  that  were  the 
delight  of  your  infancy." 

But  this  somewhat  stoical  mood  of  tranquillity  was 
broken  up  when  Lady  Mary  moved  from  the  country 
to  Venice,  where  (and  at  Padua)  the  remaining  years 
of  her  stay  abroad  were  spent.  The  post  of  British 
Resident  at  Venice  had  recently  been  given  to  a  Mr. 
Murray,  his  predecessor  Sir  James  Gray  having  gone 
to  Naples.  She  evidently  had  no  good  opinion  of  him 
before  she  met  him  ;  and,  indeed,  he  seems  to  have  been 
a  man  with  whom  it  was  hard  not  to  quarrel.  Lady 
Mary's  letters  are  full  of  complaints  of  his  persecu- 
tions, which  fell  not  only  on  her,  but  on  her  friends, 
Sir  James  and  Lady  Steuart,  of  Colthurst,  who,  as 
exiled  Jacobites,  were  the  objects  of  Murray's  jealous 
suspicion. 

''  I  am  surprised,"  Lady  Mary  writes,  "  I  am  not 
oftener  low-spirited,  considering  the  vexations  I  am 
exposed    to   by    the    folly    of    Murray ;    I    suppose    he 

*  That  is,  the  dolls. 


Last   Years  and  Death  283 

attributes  to  me  some  of  the  marks  of  contempt  he 
is    treated  with  ;    without  remembering  that  he   was 
in  no  higher  esteem  before  I  came.     I  confess  I  have 
received  great  civiHties  from  some  friends  that  I  made 
here  so  long  ago  as  the  year  '40,  but  upon  my  honour 
have  never  named  his  name,  or  heard  him  mentioned 
by  any  noble  Venetian  whatever;    nor   have    in  any 
shape  given  him  the  least  provocation  to  all  the  low 
malice  he  has  shown  me,  which  I  have  overlooked  as 
below  my  notice,  and  would  not  trouble  you  with  any 
part   of  it   at   present  if  he  had   not   invented   a  new 
persecution,   which    may  be    productive  of   ill  conse- 
quences.    Here    arrived,  a   few  days  ago,   Sir  James 
Steuart  with  his  lady  ;*  that   name  was  sufficient  to 
make  me  fly  to  wait  on  her.     I  was  charmed  to  find  a 
man  of  uncommon  sense  and  learning,  and  a  lady  that 
without  beauty  is  more  amiable  than  the  fairest  of  her 
sex.     I  offered  them  all  the  little  good  offices  in  my 
power,  and  invited  them  to  supper ;  upon  which  our  wise 
minister  has   discovered  that  I  am  in  the  interest  of 
popery  and  slavery.     As  he  has  often   said  the  same 
thing  of  Mr.  Pitt,  it  would  give  me  no  mortification,  if 
I  did  not  apprehend  that  his  fertile  imagination  may 
support   this  wise  idea  by  such  circumstances  as  may 

*  According  to  Murray's  own  account,  Sir  James  asked  to  be 
received  by  him,  but  was  refused.  It  is  possible,  therefore,  that 
Lady  Mary  was  obnoxious  as  consorting  with  rebels.  She  herself 
protested  against  it  being  thought  that  any  conduct  of  hers  could 
have  given  the  pretext  for  his  action  ;  but  remembering  how 
she  had  incurred  resentment  at  home,  we  may  perhaps  surmise 
that  she  had  not  been  quite  so  prudent  as  she  thought. 


284  Last    Years  and  Death 

influence  those  that  do  not  know  me.  It  is  very  re- 
markable that  after  having  suffered  all  the  rage  of  that 
party  at  Avignon  for  my  attachment  to  the  present 
reigning  family,  I  should  be  accused  here  of  favouring 
rebellion,  when  I  hoped  all  our  odious  divisions  were 
forgotten." 

She  writes  to  her  daughter  : 

"  I  am  afraid  you  may  think  some  imprudent  be- 
haviour of  mine  has  occasioned  all  this  ridiculous  per- 
secution ;  I  can  assure  you  I  have  always  treated  him 
and  his  family  with  the  utmost  civility,  and  am  now 
retired  to  Padua,  to  avoid  the  comments  that  will  cer- 
tainly be  made  on  his  extraordinary  conduct  towards 
me.  I  only  desire  privacy  and  quiet,  and  am  very  well 
contented  to  be  without  visits,  w'hich  oftener  disturb 
than  amuse  me.  My  single  concern  is  the  design  he 
has  formed  of  securing  (as  he  calls  it)  my  effects  im- 
mediately on  my  decease ;  if  they  ever  fall  into  his 
hands,  I  am  persuaded  they  will  never  arrive  entire 
into  yours,  which  is  a  very  uneasy  thought." 

This  fear  of  having  her  possessions  appropriated  if 
she  should  die  in  Venice  seems  to  have  persistently 
beset  Lady  Mary.     She  refers  to  it  again  : 

''  I  own  I  could  wish  that  we  had  a  minister  here 
who  I  had  not  reason  to  suspect  would  plunder  my 
house  if  I  die  while  he  is  in  authority.  General 
Graham  is  exceedingly  infirm,  and  also  so  easily  im- 
posed on,  that  whatever  his  intentions  may  be,  he  is 
incapable  of  protecting  anybody.  You  will  (perhaps) 
laugh  at  these  apprehensions,  since  whatever  happens 


Last    Years  and  Death  285 

in  this  world  after  our  death  is  certainly  nothing  to  us. 
It  may  be  thought  a  fantastic  satisfaction,  but  I  confess 
I  cannot  help  being  earnestly  desirous  that  what  I 
leave  may  fall  into  your  hands.  Do  not  so  far  mistake 
me  as  to  imagine  I  would  have  the  present  M. 
[minister]  removed  by  advancement,  which  would  have 
the  sure  consequence  of  my  suffering,  if  possible,  more 
impertinence  from  his  successor." 

Venetian  friends  to  a  certain  extent  made  up  for  the 
coldness  of  English  visitors  ;  and  some  of  them  showed 
her  much  kindness. 

''  I  lose  very  little,"  she  writes,  *'  in  not  being  visited 
by  the  English ;  boys  and  governors  being  commonly 
(not  always)  the  worst  company  in  the  world.     I  am  no 
other  ways  affected  by  it,  than  as  it  has  an  ill  appearance 
in  a  strange  country,  though  hitherto  I  have  not  found 
any  bad  effect  from  it  among  my  Venetian  acquaintance. 
I  was  visited,  two  days  ago,  by  my  good  friend  Cavalier 
Antonio  Mocenigo,  who  came  from  Venice  to  present  to 
me  the  elected  husband  of  his  brother's  great  grand- 
daughter, who  is  a  noble  Venetian  (Signor  Zeno),  just 
of  age,  heir  to  a  large  fortune,  and  is  one  of  the  most 
agreeable  figures  I  ever  saw ;  not  beautiful,  but  has  an 
air  of  so  much  modesty  and  good  sense,  I  could  easily 
believe  all  the  good  Signor  Antonio  said  of  him.     They 
came  to  invite  me  to  the  wedding.     I  could  not  refuse 
such  a  distinction,  but  hope  to  find  some  excuse  before 
the  solemnity,  being  unwilling  to  throw  away  money  on 
fine  clothes,  which  are  as  improper  for  me  as  an  em- 
broidered pall  for  a  coffin.     But  I  durst  not  mention 


286  Last   Years  and  Death 

age  before  my  friend,  who  told  me  he  is  eighty-six.  I 
thought  him  four  years  younger ;  he  has  all  his  senses 
perfect,  and  is  as  lively  as  a  man  of  thirty.  It  was  very 
pleasing  to  see  the  affectionate  respect  of  the  young 
man,  and  the  fond  joy  that  the  old  one  took  in  praising 
him.  They  would  have  persuaded  me  to  return  with 
them  to  Venice ;  I  objected  that  my  house  was  not 
ready  to  receive  me ;  Signor  Antonio  laughed,  and 
asked  me,  if  I  did  not  think  he  could  give  me  an 
apartment  (in  truth  it  was  very  easy,  having  five 
palaces  in  a  row,  on  the  great  canal,  his  own  being  the 
centre,  and  the  others  inhabited  by  his  relations).  I 
was  reduced  to  tell  a  fib  (God  forgive  me  I),  and  pretend 
a  pain  in  my  head  ;  promising  to  come  to  Venice  before 
the  marriage,  which  I  really  intend.  They  dined  here ; 
your  health  was  the  first  drunk ;  you  may  imagine  I  did 
not  fail  to  toast  the  bride.  She  is  yet  in  a  convent,  but 
is  to  be  immediately  released,  and  receive  visits  of  con- 
gratulation on  the  contract,  till  the  celebration  of  the 
church  ceremony,  which  perhaps  may  not  be  this  two 
months ;  during  which  time  the  lover  makes  a  daily 
visit,  and  never  comes  without  a  present,  which  custom 
(at  least  sometimes)  adds  to  the  impatience  of  the  bride- 
groom, and  very  much  qualifies  that  of  the  lady.  You 
would  find  it  hard  to  believe  a  relation  of  the  magnifi- 
cence, not  to  say  extravagance,  on  these  occasions ; 
indeed,  it  is  the  only  one  they  are  guilty  of,  their  lives  in 
general  being  spent  in  a  regular  handsome  economy ; 
the  weddings  and  the  creation  of  a  procurator  being  the 
only  occasions   they  have  of  displaying   their  wealth, 


Last   Years  and  Death  287 

which  is  very  great  in  many  houses,  particularly  this  of 
Mocenigo,  of  which  my  friend  is  the  present  head.  I 
may  justly  call  him  so,  giving  me  proofs  of  an  attach- 
ment quite  uncommon  at  London,  and  certainly  disin- 
terested, since  I  can  no  way  possibly  be  of  use  to  him. 
I  could  tell  you  some  strong  instances  of  it,  if  I  did 
not  remember  you  have  not  time  to  listen  to  my 
stories." 

The  annoyances  of  Murray,  however  petty,  seem  to 
have  joined  with  growing  infirmities  to  cloud  over  the 
good  spirits  which  had  hitherto  seldom  failed  Lady 
Mary.  She  become  anxious  about  her  daughter  when 
the  post  failed ;  and  Mr.  Murray  apparently  would  not 
lend  her  the  English  newspapers  : 

"  If  half  of  the  letters  I  have  sent  to  you  have  reached 
you,  I  believe  you  think  I  have  always  a  pen  in  my  hand ; 
but,  I  am  really  so  uneasy  by  your  long  silence,  I  cannot 
forbear  inquiring  the  reason  of  it,  by  all  the  methods  I 
can  imagine.  My  time  of  life  is  naturally  incHned  to  fear  ; 
and  though  I  resist  (as  well  as  I  can)  all  the  infirmities 
incident  to  age,  I  feel  but  too  sensibly  the  impressions 
of  melancholy,  when  I  have  any  doubt  of  your  welfare. 
You  fancy,  perhaps,  that  the  public  papers  give  me  in- 
formation enough ;  and  that  when  I  do  not  see  in  them 
any  misfortune  of  yours,  I  ought  to  conclude  you  have 
none.  I  can  assure  you  I  never  see  any,  excepting  by 
accident.  Our  resident  has  not  the  good  breeding  to 
send  them  to  me  ;  and  after  having  asked  for  them  once 
or  twice,  and  being  told  they  were  engaged,  I  am  un- 
willing to  demand  a  trifle  at  the  expense  of  thanking  a 


288  Last   Years  and  Death 

man  who  does  not  desire  to  oblige  me ;  indeed,  since 
the  ministry  of  Mr.  Pitt,  he  is  so  desirous  to  signahze 
his  zeal  for  the  contrary  faction,  he  is  perpetually  saying 
ridiculous  things,  to  manifest  his  attachment ;  and,  as 
he  looks  upon  me  (nobody  knows  why)  to  be  the  friend 
of  a  man  I  never  saw,  he  has  not  visited  me  once  this 
winter.  The  misfortune  is  not  great.  I  cannot  help 
laughing  at  my  being  mistaken  for  a  politician.  I  have 
often  been  so,  though  I  ever  thought  politics  so  far 
removed  from  my  sphere.  I  cannot  accuse  myself  of 
dabbling  in  them,  even  when  I  heard  them  talked  over 
in  all  companies  ;  but,  as  the  old  song  says, 

"  Tho'  through  the  wide  world  we  should  range, 
'Tis  in  vain  from  our  fortune  to  fly." 

Again  her  passion  for  reading  made  her  fear  for  her 
eyesight,  and  began  to  tell  on  her  general  health. 
She  confesses  as  much  in  a  letter  of  1759  to  Lady 
Bute: 

'  I  own  I  have  too  much  indulged  a  sedentary 
humour,  and  have  been  a  rake  in  reading.  You  will 
laugh  at  the  expression,  but  I  think  the  literal  meaning 
of  the  ugly  word  rake  is  one  that  follows  his  pleasures 
in  contradiction  to  his  reason.  I  thought  mine  so 
innocent  I  might  pursue  them  with  impunity.  I  now 
find  that  I  was  mistaken,  and  that  all  excesses  are 
(though  not  equally)  blamable.  My  spirits  in  company 
are  false  fire :  I  have  a  damp  within ;  from  marshy 
grounds  frequently  arises  an  appearance  of  light.  I 
grow  splenetic,  and  consequent^  ought  to  stop  my 
pen,  for  fear  of  conveying  the  infection." 


Last   Years  and  Death  289 

Even  the  liberty  for  which  she  had  given  up  so  much 
seemed  a  deception,  Hke  all  else.  She  writes  to  her 
daughter : 

"  I  believe,  like  all  others  of  your  age,  you  have  long 
been  convinced  there  is  no  real  happiness  to  be  found 
or  expected  in  this  world.  You  have  seen  a  court  near 
enough  to  know  neither  riches  nor  power  can  secure  it ; 
and  all  human  endeavours  after  felicity  are  as  childish 
as  running  after  sparrows  to  lay  salt  on  their  tails ;  but 
I  ought  to  give  you  another  information,  which  can  only 
be  learned  by  experience,  that  liberty  is  an  idea  equally 
chimerical,  and  has  no  real  existence  in  this  life.  I  can 
truly  assure  you  I  have  never  been  so  little  mistress  of 
my  own  time  and  actions,  as  since  I  have  lived  alone. 
Mankind  is  placed  in  a  state  of  dependency,  not  onl}^  on 
one  another  (which  all  are  in  some  degree),  but  so  many 
inevitable  accidents  thwart  our  designs,  and  limit  our 
best  laid  projects.  The  poor  efforts  of  our  utmost 
prudence  and  political  schemes,  appear,  I  fancy,  in 
the  eyes  of  some  superior  beings,  like  the  pecking  of 
a  young  linnet  to  break  a  wire  cage,  or  the  climbing  o^ 
a  squirrel  in  a  hoop ;  the  moral  needs  no  explanation : 
let  us  sing  as  cheerfully  as  we  can  in  our  impenetrable 
confinement,  and  crack  our  nuts  with  pleasure  from  the 
little  store  that  is  allowed  us." 

And,  again,  in  another  letter  to  the  same: 

''  I  am  now  grown  timorous,  and  inclined  to  low 
spirits,  whatever  you  may  hear  to  the  contrary.  My 
cheerfulness  is  like  the  fire  kindled  in  brushwood, 
which    makes    a   show,   but    is    soon   turned    to   cold 

19 


290  Last   Years  and  Death 

ashes.  I  do  not,  like  Madame  Maintenon,  grieve  at 
the  decay  which  is  allotted  to  all  mortals,  but  would 
willingly  excuse  to  you  the  heat  that  was  in  my  last. 
I  would  by  no  means  have  you  give  the  least  uneasi- 
ness to  your  father.  At  his  time  of  life  the  mind 
should  be  vacant  and  quiet.  As  for  the  rest,  let 
Providence  as  it  will  dispose  of  your  most  affectionate 
mother." 

Possibly  there  was  an  epidemic  of  low  spirits  at 
Venice,  or  Lady  Mary  had  infected  others  with  her 
own  gloom  ;  for  she  chronicles  the  sudden  prevalence 
of  a  practice  generally  supposed  to  be  peculiarly 
English  : 

"  Here  is  a  fashion  sprung  up  entirely  new  in  this 
part  of  the  world  ;  I  mean  suicide  :  a  rich  parish  priest 
and  a  young  Celestine  monk  have  disposed  of  them- 
selves last  week  in  that  manner  without  any  visible 
reason  for  their  precipitation.  The  priest,  indeed,  left 
a  paper  in  his  hat  to  signify  his  desire  of  imitating  the 
indifference  of  Socrates  and  magnanimity  of  Cato  : 
the  friar  swung  out  of  the  world  without  giving  any 
account  of  his  design.  You  see  it  is  not  in  Britain 
alone  that  the  spleen  spreads  his  dominion.  I  look  on 
all  excursions  of  this  kind  to  be  owing  to  that  distemper, 
W'hich  shows  the  necessity  of  seeking  employment  for 
the  mind,  and  exercise  for  the  body ;  the  spirits  and 
the  blood  stagnate  without  motion." 

To  this  length  Lady  Mary  had  no  intention  of  going; 
little  as  she  now  clung  to  life,  she  had  no  idea  of 
quitting  it  before  necessar}'.     She  continued  to  enjoy 


Last   Years  and  Death  291 

her  life  at  Venice ;  and  though  she  dedined  her 
daughter's  offers  of  sending  anything  she  might  want, 
had  no  objection  to  receiving  some  china  to  enable  her 
to  make  a  figure  there : 

'*  My  dear  child,  do  not  think  of  reversing  nature  by 
making  me  presents.  I  would  send  you  all  my  jewels 
and  my  toilet,  if  I  knew  how  to  convey  them,  though 
they  are  in  some  measure  necessary  in  this  country, 
where  it  would  be,  perhaps,  reported  I  had  pawned 
them,  if  they  did  not  sometimes  make  their  appear- 
ance. I  know  not  how  to  send  commissions  for  things 
I  never  saw  ;  nothing  of  price  I  would  have,  as  I  would 
not  new  furnish  an  inn  I  was  on  the  point  of  leaving ; 
such  is  this  world  to  me.  Though  china  is  in  such 
estimation  here,  I  have  sometimes  an  inclination  to 
desire  your  father  to  send  me  the  two  large  jars  that 
stood  in  the  windows  in  Cavendish  Square.  I  am 
sure  he  don't  value  them,  and  believe  they  would  be  of 
no  use  to  you.  I  bought  them  at  an  auction,  for  two 
guineas,  before  the  D.  of  Argyll's  example  had  made 
all  china,  more  or  less,  fashionable." 

English  wares  seem  to  have  been  in  vogue  at  Venice 
at  the  time  : 

"  In  general,  all  the  shops  are  full  of  English  mer- 
chandise, and  they  boast  [of]  everything  as  coming 
from  London,  in  the  same  style  as  they  used  to  do 
from  Paris.  I  was  showed  (of  their  own  invention) 
a  set  of  furniture,  in  a  taste  entirely  new :  it  consists 
of  eight  large  armed-chairs,  the  same  number  of  sconces, 
a  table,  and  prodigious  looking-glass,  all  of  glass.     It  is 

19 — 2 


292  Last   Years  and  Death 

impossible  to  imagine  their  beauty  ;  they  deserve  being 
placed  in  a  prince's  dressing-room,  or  grand  cabinet ; 
the  price  demanded  is  /'400.  They  would  be  a  very 
proper  decoration  for  the  apartment  of  a  prince  so 
young  and  beautiful  as  ours." 

Lady  Mary  asked  for  Horace  Walpole's  "  Royal  and 
Noble  Authors,'"  remembering  her  meeting  with  him 
at  Florence.  Walpole,  in  his  letters,  alludes  several 
times  to  a  copy  of  this  book  as  to  be  sent  to  her  ; 
though  it  was  eventually  despatched  after  she  had  left 
Venice  on  her  way  home. 

It  is  curious  to  note  the  kindliness  of  her  references 
to  him,  as  compared  wnth  his  uniform  spitefulness  in 
speaking  of  her  : 

''  I  was  well  acquainted  with  Mr.  Walpole  at 
Florence,  and  indeed  he  was  particularh'  civil  to  me. 
I  have  great  encouragement  to  ask  a  favour  of  him, 
if  I  did  not  know  that  few  people  have  so  good 
memories  to  remember  so  many  years  backwards  as 
have  passed  since  I  have  seen  him.  If  he  has  treated 
the  character  of  Queen  Elizabeth  with  disrespect,  all 
the  women  should  tear  him  to  pieces,  for  abusing  the 
glory  of  their  sex.*  Neither  is  it  just  to  put  her  in  the 
list  of  authors,  having  never  published  anything,  though 
we  have  Mr.  Camden's  authority  that  she  wrote  many 
valuable  pieces,  chiefly  Greek  translations.  I  wish  all 
monarchs  would  bestow  their  leisure  hours  on  such 
studies :    perhaps   they  would    not    be   very  useful   to 

*  Alluding  to  the  character  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  his  "  Royal 
and  Noble  Authors." 


Last   Years  and  Death  293 

mankind  ;  but  it  may  be  asserted,  for  a  certain  truth, 
their  own  minds  would  be  more  improved  than  by  the 
amusements  of  Quadrille  or  Cavagnole. 

**  I  desire  you  would  thank  your  father  for  the  china 
jars  ;  if  they  arrive  safe,  they  will  do  me  great  honour 
in  this  country.     The  Patriarch  died  here  a  few  days 
ago.     He  had  a   large   temporal  estate;  and,  by  long 
life   and    extreme    parsimony,    has   left    four   hundred 
thousand  sequins  in  his    coffers,  which  is   inherited  by 
two   nephews  ;    and   I   su  ppose    will   be    dissipated  as 
scandalously  as  it   has   been  accumulated.     The  town 
is  at  present  full  of  factions,  for  the  election  of  his 
successor  :  the  ladies  are   always  very  active  on  these 
occasions.     I  have  observed  that  they  ever  have  more 
influence    in    republics    than    [in    a]    monarchy.       In 
commonwealths,  votes  are  easily  acquired  by  the  fair ; 
and  she,  who  has  most  beauty  or  art,  has  a  great  sway 
in  the  senate." 

To  guard  against  overtaxing  her  eyes.  Lady  Mary 
tried  dictating  to  a  secretary  ;  but  she  soon  dropped 
this,  as  appears  from  an  entertaining  letter  to  Sir  James 
Steuart,  which  also  gives  us  a  glimpse  (apparently)  of 
one  of  Murray's  receptions  : 

"  I  am  extremely  obliged  for  the  valuable  present 
you  intend  me.*  I  believe  you  criticise  yourself  too 
severely  on  your  style  :  I  do  not  think  that  very  smooth 
harmony  is  necessary  in  a  work  which  has  a  merit  of 
a  nobler  kind  ;   I  think  it  rather   a  defect,  as  when  a 

*  Sir  James  Steuart's  "  Political  Economy,"  of  which  he  after- 
wards sent  her  a  copy  in  manuscript. 


294  Last    Years  and  Death 

Roman  emperor  (as  we  see  him  sometimes  represented 
on  a  French  stage)  is  dressed  like  a  petit  maitre.  I 
confess  the  crowd  of  readers  look  no  further ;  the 
tittle-tattle  of  Madame  de  Sevigne,  and  the  clinquant  of 
Telemachus,  have  found  admirers  from  that  very 
reason.  Whatever  is  clearly  expressed,  is  well  wrote 
in  a  book  of  reasoning.  However,  I  shall  obey  your 
commands  in  telling  you  my  opinion  with  the  greatest 
sincerity. 

''  Thus  far  I  have  dictated  for  the  first  time  of  my 
life,  and  perhaps  it  will  be  the  last,  for  my  amanuensis 
is  not  to  be  hired,  and  I  despair  of  ever  meeting  with 
another.  He  is  the  first  that  could  write  as  fast  as  I 
talk,  and  yet  you  see  there  are  so  many  mistakes,  it 
wants  a  comment  longer  than  my  letter  to  explain  my 
insignificant  meaning,  and  I  have  fatigued  my  poor 
eyes  more  with  correcting  it  than  I  should  have  done 
in  scribbling  two  sheets  of  paper.  You  will  think, 
perhaps,  from  this  idle  attempt,  that  I  have  some 
fluxion  on  my  sight ;  no  such  matter  ;  I  have  suffered 
myself  to  be  persuaded  by  such  sort  of  arguments  as 
those  by  which  people  are  induced  to  strict  abstinence, 
or  to  take  physic.  Fear,  paltry  fear,  founded  on 
vapours  rising  from  the  heat,  which  is  now  excessive, 
and  has  so  far  debilitated  my  miserable  nerves  that  I 
submit  to  a  present  displeasure,  by  way  of  precaution 
against  a  future  evil,  that  possibly  may  never  happen. 
I  have  this  to  say  in  my  excuse,  that  the  evil  is  of  so 
horrid  a  nature,  I  own  I  feel  no  philosophy  that  could 
support    me    under    it,    and    no    mountain    girl    ever 


Last   Years  and  Death  295 

trembled  more  at  one  of  Whitfield's  pathetic  lectures 
than  I  do  at  the  word  blindness,  though  I  know  all  the 
fine  things  that  may  be  said  for  consolation  in  such  a 
case  :  but  I  know,  also,  they  would  not  operate  on  my 
constitution.  'Why,  then'  (say  my  wise  monitors), 
*  will  you  persist  in  reading  or  writing  seven  hours  in 
a  day  ?'  'I  am  happy  while  I  read  and  write.' 
'  Indeed,  one  would  suffer  a  great  deal  to  be  happy,' 
say  the  men,  sneering ;  and  the  ladies  wink  at  each 
other,  and  hold  up  their  fans.  A  fine  lady  of  three 
score  had  the  goodness  to  add,  *  At  least,  madam,  you 
should  use  spectacles ;  I  have  used  them  myself  these 
twenty  years  ;  I  was  advised  to  it  by  a  famous  oculist 
when  I  was  fifteen.  I  am  really  of  opinion  that  they 
have  preserved  my  sight,  notwithstanding  the  passion 
I  always  had  both  for  reading  and  drawing.'  This 
good  woman,  you  must  know,  is  half  blind,  and  never 
read  a  larger  volume  than  a  newspaper.  I  will  not 
trouble  you  with  the  whole  conversation,  though  it 
would  make  an  excellent  scene  in  a  farce  ;  but  after 
they  had  in  the  best  bred  way  in  the  world  convinced 
me  that  they  thought  I  lied  when  I  talked  of  reading 
without  glasses,  the  foresaid  matron  obligingly  said  she 
should  be  very  proud  to  see  the  writing  I  talked  of, 
having  heard  me  say  formerly  I  had  no  correspondents 
but  my  daughter  and  Mr.  Wortley.  She  was  inter- 
rupted by  her  sister,  who  said,  simpering,  '  You  forgot 
Sir  J.  S.'  I  took  her  up  something  short,  I  confess, 
and  said  in  a  dry  stern  tone,  '  Madam,  I  do  write  to 
Sir  J.  S.,  and  will  do  it  as  long  as  he  will  permit  that 


296  Last   Years  and  Death 

honour.'     This  rudeness  of  mine  occasioned  a  profound 
silence  for  some   minutes,  and   they  fell  into  a   good- 
natured  discourse  of  the  ill  consequences  of  too  much 
application,  and    remembered    how    many  apoplexies, 
gouts,  and  dropsies  had   happened   amongst  the  hard 
students    of  their   acquaintance.     As   I   never  studied 
anything  in  my  life,   and   have  always  (at   least  from 
fifteen)  thought  the  reputation  of  learning  a  misfortune 
to  a  woman,  I  was  resolved    to  believe  these  stories 
were  not  meant  at  me  :   I  grew  silent  in  my  turn,  and 
took  up  a  card  that  lay  on  a  table,  and  amused  myself 
with  smoking  it  over  a  candle.     In  the  mean  time  (as 
the  song  says) : 

"  '  Their  tattles  all  run,  as  swift  as  the  sun, 
Of  who  had  won,  and  who  was  undone 
By  their  gaming  and  sitting  up  late.' 

When  it  was  observed  I  entered  into  none  of  these 
topics,  I  was  addressed  by  an  obliging  lady,  who  pitied 
my  stupidity.  *  Indeed,  madam,  you  should  buy 
horses  to  that  fine  machine  you  have  at  Padua ;  of 
what  use  is  it  standing  in  the  portico  ?'  '  Perhaps,' 
said  another,  wittily,  '  of  as  much  use  as  a  standing 
dish.'  A  gaping  schoolboy  added  with  still  more  wit, 
'  I  have  seen  at  a  country  gentleman's  table  a  venison- 
pasty  made  of  wood.'  I  was  not  at  all  vexed  by  said 
schoolboy,  not  because  he  was  (in  more  senses  than 
one)  the  highest  of  the  company,  but  knowing  he  did 
not  mean  to  offend  me.  I  confess  (to  my  shame  be  it 
spoken)  I  was  grieved  at  the  triumph  that  appeared  in 
the  eyes  of  the   king  and   queen  of  the   company,  the 


Last   Years  and  Death  297 

court  being  tolerably  full."^  His  majesty  walked  off 
early  with  the  air  befitting  his  dignity,  followed  by  his 
train  of  courtiers,  who,  like  courtiers,  were  laughing 
amongst  themselves  as  they  followed  him  :  and  I  was 
left  with  the  two  queens,  one  of  whom  was  making 
ruffles  for  the  man  she  loved,  and  the  other  slopping 
tea  for  the  good  of  her  country.  They  renewed  their 
generous  endeavours  to  set  me  right,  and  I  (graceless 
beast  that  I  am)  take  up  the  smoked  card  which  lay 
before  me,  and  with  the  corner  of  another  wrote — 

"  '  If  ever  I  one  thought  bestow 
On  what  such  fools  advise, 
May  I  be  dull  enough  to  grow 
Most  miserably  wise,' 

and  flung  down  the  card  on  the  table,  and  myself  out 
of  the  room,  in  the  most  indecent  fury." 

Such  conduct  was  hardly,  perhaps,  calculated  to 
disarm  the  hostility  of  Murray  and  his  circle  ;  and  so 
disagreeable  did  they  become  that  Lady  Mary  had 
thoughts  of  leaving  Venice  and  joining  her  friends  the 
Steuarts,  with  whom  she  now  corresponded  regularly, 
at  Tubingen  ;  but  age  and  infirmity  forbade  the 
journey. 

"  I  have  indulged  myself  some  time  with  day-dreams 
of  the  happiness  I  hoped  to  enjoy  this  summer  in  the 
conversation  of  Lady  Fanny  and  Sir  James  S.  ;  but  I 
hear    such    frightful    stories   of  precipices  and    hovels 

*  The  "king"  was  probably  Murray,  and  "the  two  queens"  his 
wife  and  sister — the  latter  married  to  Mr.  Smith,  the  English 
Consul. 


298  Last   Years  and  Death 

during  the  whole  journey,  I  begin  to  fear  there  is  no 
such  pleasure  allotted  me  in  the  book  of  fate  :  the  Alps 
were  once  molehills  in  my  sight  when  they  interposed 
between  me  and  the  slightest  inclination ;  now  age 
begins  to  freeze,  and  brings  with  it  the  usual  train  of 
melancholy  apprehensions.  Poor  humankind  !  We 
always  march  blindly  on  ;  the  fire  of  youth  represents 
to  us  all  our  wishes  possible  ;  and,  that  over,  we  fall 
into  despondency  that  prevents  even  easy  enterprises  : 
a  stove  in  winter,  a  garden  in  summer,  bounds  all  our 
desires,  or  at  least  our  undertakings.  If  Mr.  Steuart* 
would  disclose  all  his  imaginations,  I  dare  swear  he  has 
some  thoughts  of  emulating  Alexander  or  Demosthenes, 
perhaps  both  :  nothing  seems  difficult  at  his  time  of 
life,  everything  at  mine.  I  am  very  unwilling,  but  am 
afraid  I  must  submit  to  the  confinement  of  my  boat 
and  my  easy-chair,  and  go  no  farther  than  they  can 
carry  me.  Why  are  our  views  so  extensive  and  our 
power  so  miserably  limited  ?  This  is  among  the 
mysteries  which  (as  you  justly  say)  will  remain  ever 
unfolded  to  our  shallow  capacities.  I  am  much 
inclined  to  think  we  are  no  more  free  agents  than  the 
queen  of  clubs  when  she  victoriously  takes  prisoner 
the  knave  of  hearts ;  and  all  our  efforts  (when  we  rebel 
against  destiny)  as  weak  as  a  card  that  sticks  to  a  glove 
when  the  gamester  is  determined  to  throw  it  on  the 
table.  Let  us  then  (which  is  the  only  true  philosophy) 
be  contented  with  our  chance,  and  make  the  best  of 
that  very  bad  bargain  of  being  born  in  this  vile  planet  ; 
*  Afterwards  (^.eneral  Steuart,  Sir  James's  son. 


Last   Years  and  Death  299 

where  we  may  find,  however  (God  be  thanked),  much  / 
to  laugh  at,  though  little  to  approve. 

"  I  confess  I  delight  extremely  in  looking  on  men  in 
that  light.  How  many  thousands  trample  under  foot 
honour,  ease,  and  pleasure,  in  pursuit  of  ribands  of  cer- 
tain colours,  dabs  of  embroidery  on  their  clothes,  and 
gilt  wood  carved  behind  their  coaches  in  a  particular 
figure  !  Others  breaking  their  hearts  till  they  are  dis- 
tinguished by  the  shape  and  colour  of  their  hats;  and, 
in  general,  all  people  earnestly  seeking  what  they  do 
not  want,  while  they  neglect  the  real  blessings  in  their 
possession — I  mean,  the  innocent  gratification  of  their 
senses,  which  is  all  we  can  properly  call  our  own." 

And  this  somewhat  epicurean  philosophy  is  developed 
further  in  another  letter  to  Sir  James  Steuart : 

"  My  chief  study  all  my  Hfe  has  been  to  lighten  mis- 
fortunes, and  multiply  pleasures,  as  far  as  human  nature 
can  :  when  I  have  nothing  to  find  in  myself  from  which 
I  can  extract  any  kind  of  delight,  I  think  on  the  happi- 
ness of  my  friends,  and  rejoice  in  the  joy  with  which 
you  converse  together,  and  look  on  the  beautiful  young 
plant*  from  which  you  may  so  reasonably  expect  honour 
and  felicity.  In  other  days  I  think  over  the  comic 
scenes  that  are  daily  exhibited  on  the  great  stage  of  the 
world  for  my  entertainment.  I  am  charmed  with  the 
account  of  the  Moravians,  who  certainly  exceed  all 
mankind  in  absurdity  of  principles  and  madness  of 
practice ;  yet  these  people  walk  erect,  and  are  num- 
bered amongst  rational  beings.  I  imagined  after  three 
*  The  youthful  son  of  Sir  James. 


300  Last   Years  and  Death 

thousand  years'  working  at  creeds  and  theological 
whimsies,  there  remained  nothing  new  to  be  invented ; 
I  see  the  fund  is  inexhaustible,  and  we  may  say  of  folly 
what  Horace  has  said  of  vice  : 

"  yEtas  parentum  pejor  avis  tulit 
Nos  nequiores,  mox  daturos 
Progeniem  vitiosiorem." 

**  I  will  not  ask  pardon  for  this  quotation  ;  it  is 
God's  mercy  I  did  not  put  it  into  English  :  when  one 
is  haunted  (as  I  am)  by  the  Demon  of  Poesie,  it  must 
come  out  in  one  shape  or  another,  and  you  will  own  that 
nobody  shows  it  to  more  advantage  than  the  author  I 
have  mentioned." 

The  promised  ''Political  Economy"  came,  as  a 
slight  consolation  to  Lady  Mary  for  being  unable  to 
rejoin  her  friends  ;  and  she  wrote  most  warmly  about 
it  to  Sir  James  : 

''  I  have  now  with  great  pleasure,  and  I  flatter  my- 
self with  some  improvement,  read  over  again  your 
delightful  and  instructive  treatise  ;  you  have  opened  to 
me  several  truths  of  which  I  had  before  only  a  confused 
idea.  I  confess  I  cannot  help  being  a  little  vain  of 
comprehending  a  system  that  is  calculated  only  for  a 
thinking  mind,  and  cannot  be  tasted  without  a  willing- 
ness to  lay  aside  many  prejudices  which  arise  from 
education  and  the  conversation  of  people  no  wiser  than 
ourselves.  I  do  not  only  mean  my  own  sex  when  I 
speak  of  our  confined  way  of  reasoning  ;  there  are 
many  of  yours  as  incapable  of  judging  otherwise  than 
they  have  been  early  taught,  as  the  most  ignorant  milk- 


Last   Years  and  Death  301 

maid  :  nay,  I  believe  a  girl  out  of  a  village  or  a  nursery 
more  capable  of  receiving  instruction  than  a  lad  just 
set  free  from  the  university.  It  is  not  difficult  to  write 
on  blank  paper,  but  'tis  a  tedious  if  not  an  impossible 
task  to  scrape  out  nonsense  already  written,  and  put 
better  sense  in  the  place  of  it." 

The  long  life  of  travel  and  independence  was  now 
drawing  to  a  close.  In  1761  came  the  news  of  Mr. 
Wortley  Montagu's  death,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three, 
and  although  no  allusions  to  it  are  mentioned  in  the 
few  letters  of  a  later  date  published,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  Lady  Mary  felt  the  loss  of  one  whom  (as  far  as  we 
can  tell)  she  had  always  respected  and  loved.  Some 
pleasure  was  caused  her  by  the  rapid  rise  of  the  Earl  of 
Bute  after  the  accession  of  George  III.  ;  yet  she  did  not 
desire  to  leave  Venice,  as  is  clear  from  her  letter  to  Sir 
James  Steuart : 

"  The  happiness  of  domestic  life  seems  the  most 
laudable  as  it  is  certainly  the  most  delightful  of  our 
prospects,  yet  even  that  is  denied,  or  at  least  so  mixed, 
*  we  think  it  not  sincere,  or  fear  it  cannot  last.'  A  long 
series  of  disappointments  have  perhaps  worn  out  my 
natural  spirits,  and  given  a  melancholy  cast  to  my  way 
of  thinking.  I  would  not  communicate  this  weakness 
to  any  but  yourself,  who  can  have  compassion  even 
where  your  superior  understanding  condemns.  I  con- 
fess that  though  I  am  (it  may  be)  beyond  the  strict 
bounds  of  reason  pleased  with  my  Lord  Bute's  and  my 
daughter's  prosperity,  I  am  doubtful  whether  I  will 
attempt  to  be  a  spectator  of  it.     I  have  so  many  years 


302  Last   Years  and  Death 

indulged  my  natural  inclinations  to  solitude  and  reading, 
I  am  unwilling  to  return  to  crowds  and  bustle,  which 
would  be  unavoidable  in  London.  The  few  friends  I 
esteemed  are  now  no  more :  the  new  set  of  people  who 
fill  the  stage  at  present  are  too  indifferent  to  me  even 
to  raise  my  curiosity.  I  now  begin  to  feel  (very  late, 
you'll  say)  the  worst  effects  of  age,  blindness  excepted  ; 
I  am  grown  timorous  and  suspicious  ;  I  fear  the  incon- 
stancy of  that  goddess  so  publicly  adored  in  ancient 
Kome,  and  so  heartily  inwardly  worshipped  in  the 
modern.  I  retain,  however,  such  a  degree  of  that  un- 
common thing  called  common- sense,  not  to  trouble  the 
felicity  of  my  children  with  my  foreboding  dreams, 
which  I  hope  will  prove  as  idle  as  the  croaking  of 
ravens,  or  the  noise  of  that  harmless  animal  dis- 
tinguished by  the  odious  name  of  screech-owl." 

However,  at  the  request  of  her  daughter,  who  wished 
her  to  help  in  settling  her  husband's  affairs.  Lady  Mary 
resolved  to  set  out  for  England,  the  more  readily,  per- 
haps, because  she  probably  knew  that  she  was  smitten 
with  an  incurable  disease,  and  had  but  a  short  time  to 
live.  She  set  out  in  the  winter — a  far  different  winter 
journey  from  that  which  had  begun  her  travels,  and  led 
her  into  the  magnificent  East.  Though  passing  near  her 
friends  the  Steuarts,  she  was  unable  to  meet  them  ; 
finally  she  reached  Rotterdam,  and  there  was  delayed 
by  storms.     From  thence  she  wrote  to  Sir  James : 

"  I  tried  in  vain  to  find  you  at  Amsterdam  ;  I  began 
to  think  we  resembled  two  parallel  lines,  destined  to  be 
always  near  and  never  to  meet.     You  know  there  is  no 


Last   Years  and  Death  303 

fighting  (at  least  no  overcoming)  destiny.  So  far  I  am 
a  confirmed  Calvinist,  according  to  the  notions  of  the 
country  where  I  now  exist.  I  am  dragging  my  ragged 
remnant  of  Hfe  to  England.  The  wind  and  tide  are 
against  me ;  how  far  I  have  strength  to  struggle  against 
both  I  know  not ;  that  I  am  arrived  here  is  as  much  a 
miracle  as  any  in  the  golden  legend  ;  and  if  I  had  fore- 
seen half  the  difficulties  I  have  met  with,  I  should  not 
certainly  have  had  the  courage  to  undertake  it." 

She  did  not  forget  her  friends  when  at  last  she 
reached  England ;  constantly  she  pressed  on  Lord 
Bute  the  claims  of  Sir  James  Steuart  to  a  pardon. 
This  she  never  saw  granted,  though  it  was  conceded 
at  last.  She  was  now  dying  of  cancer,  and  her  letters 
must  have  been  few ;  but  she  found  time  and  strength 
to  reassure  Lady  Frances  Steuart  of  her  zeal  in  the 
service  of  her  friends.  Her  very  last  published  letter 
relates  to  this  : 

""  I  have  been  ill  a  long  time,  and  am  now  so  bad  I 
am  little  capable  of  writing,  but  I  would  not  pass  in 
your  opinion  as  either  stupid  or  ungrateful.  My  heart 
is  always  warm  in  your  service,  and  I  am  always  told 
your  affairs  shall  be  taken  care  of.  You  may  depend, 
dear  madam,  nothing  shall  be  wanting  on  the  part  of 
"  Your  ladyship's  faithful  humble  servant." 

This  was  written  in  July,  1762  ;  and  on  August  21, 
Lady  Mary  died  at  a  little  house  she  had  taken  in 
George  Street,  Hanover  Square. 

Her  personal  appearance  was  evidently  capable  of 


304  Last    Years  and  Death 

giving  very  different  impressions  to  different  observers. 
She  was  tall,  with  black  hair  and  eyes — the  latter 
appearing  prominent  from  the  loss  of  her  eyelashes 
through  the  small-pox. 

In  the  published  correspondence  between  Lady  Pom- 
fret  and  Lady  Hertford — both  friends  of  Lady  Mary's 
— there  is  one  passage  which  would  seem  to  imply  that 
the  disfigurement  suffered  at  that  time  was  much 
greater  than  this.  Lady  Hertford,  commenting  on 
that  one  of  Lady  Mary's  "'  Court  Eclogues "  entitled 
"  Flavia ;  or,  The  Small-pox,"  and  supposed  to  reflect 
the  author's  own  feelings  while  recovering  from  that 
illness,  says  : 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  natural  than  the  complaint 
for  the  loss  of  her  beauty ;  but  as  that  was  only  one  of  her 
various  powers  to  charm,  I  should  have  imagined  she 
would  have  only  felt  a  very  small  part  of  the  regret  that 
many  other  people  have  suffered  on  a  like  misfortune, 
who  have  had  nothing  but  the  loveliness  of  their  persons 
to  claim  admiration  ;  and  consequently,  by  the  loss  of 
that  [beauty],  have  found  all  their  hopes  of  it  [admira- 
tion] vanish  much  earlier  in  life  than  Lady  Mary; — for, 
if  I  do  not  mistake,  she  was  near  thirty  before  she  had 
to  deplore  the  loss  of  beauty  greater  than  I  ever  saw  in 
any  face  besides  her  own." 

Lady  Hertford  does  mistake,  for  Lady  Mary  could 
not  have  been  more  than  twenty-six  when  she  had  the 
small-pox ;  the  loss  of  beauty  is  also  probably  exag- 
gerated, for  after  her  return  from  Turkey  her  charms 
were  still  the  theme  for  admiration.     It   is  probable, 


Last   Years  and  Death.  305 

however,  that  even  in  the  days  when  she  was  a  recog- 
nised beauty,  her  charm  was  rather  in  expression  and 
sprightHness  than  in  symmetry  of  feature;  and  as 
she  grew  older,  "  Wortley"s  eyes  "  were  no  longer  be- 
rhymed, but  called  "wild  and  staring"  by  hostile 
critics. 

In  dress,  too,  she  seems  to  have  grown  slovenly ; 
perhaps  the  impossibility  of  keeping  neat  during  a 
journey  in  those  days  gradually  destroyed  even  the 
desire  to  appear  neat,  or  perhaps  her  eccentricity  was 
merely  the  deliberate  defiance  of  that  most  irrational  of 
conventionalities,  fashion. 


INDEX 


A. 

Achmet  III.,  Sultan,  8i 
Achmet  Beg,  ']'] 
Addison,  6,  96,  217,  219 
Adrianople,  81,  84,  90,  92 
Arbiuhnot,  18,  126,  127 
Ardinghi,  Signer  Aurelio,  247,  249 
Argyll,  Duke  of,  224,  291 
A>he,  Miss,  162 
Astell,  Mary,  12,  26 
Atlantis,  "K^w,  35 

Avignon,   22,    160,    i6[,    164,    167, 
168,  170,  281 

B. 

Bayle,  220 

Beard,  Mr.,  131 

Belgrade,  76,  ']%,  92 

Belloni,  149 

Bentivoglio,  Marchesa  Licinia,  252, 

255 
Bergamo,  247,  249,  251 
Bickersteth,  41 
Bocchetta,  171 
Bolingbroke,  Karl  of,  207,  215,  217, 

219,  259 
Brescia,  23,  169,  174,  180.  188,  191, 

252,  255,  262 
Bristol,  the  Countess  of,  97 
Brunswick,  Elizabeth  of,  70,  71 
Burnet,  Bishop,  6,  215 
Bute,    Earl   of,    19,    180,   203,   215. 

234,  240,  259 
Bute,  Mary,  Countess  of,  9,  20,  26. 

28,  96,   153.    175.    177,    j8o,    199, 

203,  219,  228,  257,  288 


Carlisle,  Lord,  139 

Caroline,  Princess  of  Wales,  10,  16, 

57,  78,  129 
Cenis,  Mont,  100 
Chambery,  158,  159 
Chesterfield,  the  Earl  oT,  129 
Che\alier,  the,  153,  165 
Chloe,  Mons. ,  158 
Chudleigh,  Elizabeth,  3 
Clarke,  Dr.,  144 
Cleland,  John,  27,  28 
Cologne,  64,  65 
Congreve,  lo,  113 
Constantinople,  62,  63,  92,  93,  95, 

96,  99 
Conti,  Abbe,  90 
Craggs,  Mr.,  60,  61 
Craggs,  Mr.  ,junr.,  107 

D. 

Dallaway,  Rev.,  28,  34 
Dodington,  Bubb,  115 
Dover,  102,  104,  137 
Dresden,  75 
Durlach,  Prince  of  Baden,  172 


Eugene,  Prince,  75,  76 

F. 

Fatima,  wife  of  the  Kiyaya.  89,  96. 

Termor,  Lady  Sophia,  140 

Ferrara,  254 

Fielding,  Henry,  24,  205,  206,  2oiJ 

Fleury,  Cardinal,  138 

Florence.  22,  142,  148 


Index 


307 


G. 
Gay,  Mr.,  1 13 
Geneva,  158 
Genoa,  22,  100,  171,  201 
George  I.,  52,  55,  56,  59,  72,  78 
George  II.,  124 
George  III.,  19 
Gotolengo,  24,  188,  262 
Gower,   Evelyn,  Countess  of,  3,  16, 

119,  120,  121,  122 
Graham,  General,  284 
Grange,  Lord,  17 
Grant,  Abbe,  154 
Gray,  Sir  James,  282 
Grey,  Arthur,  112 
Grimani,  Procurator,  146,  173,  268 
Guastalla,  183,  187 
Guastalla,  Duchess  of,  186 

H. 

Halifax,  Lord,  8,  54,  55,  56 

Hanover,  72,  73,  75 

Herbert,  Lady  Harriet,  131,  132 

Herculaneum,  151,  152 

Hertford,  Lady,  304 

Hervey,  Lord,  12,  18,  iii,  128,  136 

Hervey,  Lady,  17 

Hewet,  Mrs.,  35 

Hinchinbrook,  52 

Homer,  85 

Huntingdon,  54 

L 

Isco,  Lake  of,  175,  263 

K. 
Kneller,  Sir  G.,  12,  106,  119 

L. 

Lempster,  Lord,  139,  143 

Lovere,  23,  24,  175,  177,  182,  191, 

193,  195,  198,  202,  206,  208,227, 

245,  249,  251,  267,  268 
Lyons,  139 

M. 

Maffei,  Marquis,  203,  273 
Mahony,  Count,  157 
Mar,  the  Earl  of,  53 
Mar,  Frances,  Countess  of,  3,  ii,  16, 
52,  102,  107,  113,   T23,  126,  129 


Mailborough,  Duchess  of,  150,  ^04, 

281 
Mathews,  Admiral,  166 
Middlethorpe,  52,  53 
Misson,  197,  199,  201 
Mocenigo,  Antonio,  285 
Molesworth,  Mr.,  27 
Murray,  Mr.,  23,  24,  282,  293,  297, 
Murray,  Mrs.,    17,    112,    117,    118, 

119 

N. 
Naples,  149,  157 
Newcastle,  Duke  of,  259 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  220,  238,  260 
Nimeguen,  64 
Nismes,  164 

O. 

Octavia,  246 
Oglio,  the  river,  182 
Orange,  161 
Orkney,  Lady,  125 
Orrery,  Lord,  213,  214,  216 
Oxford,  Lord,  259 
Oxford,  Countess  of,  168 


P. 


Padua,  24,  197,  262,  282,  296 

Palazzo,  Count,  23,  170 

Paris,  loi 

Parma,  189 

Pera,  92,  95 

Peterwaradin,  97 

Philip,  Don,  166,  171,  189 

Philippopolis,  Z'i^ 

Pierrepont,  Evelyn,  afterwards  Earl 
of  Kingston,  Marquis  of  Dor- 
chester, and  Duke  of  Kingston,  3, 

7,  43.  47 

Pierrepont,  Lady  Frances,  after- 
wards Meadows,  121,  232 

Pierrepont,  Lord,  56 

Pierrepont,  William,  afterwards 
Duke  of  Kingston,  3,  123 

Pitt,  William,  283,  288 

Pomfret,  Lady,  21,  22,  129,  132, 
139,  141,  142,  144,  146,  148,  160, 
304 


3o8 


Index 


Pope,  Alexander,  lo,  12.  14,  17, 
18,  30,  69,  85,  95,  104,  106,  113, 
126,  127,  128,  168,207,  213,214, 
218,  236,  238,  270 

Portici,  151,  152 

Prague,  72,  73 

Prior,  Matthew,  144,  236 

Q- 

Queensberry,  Duchess  of,  134 
Querini,   Cardinal,    203,    268,    270, 
272 

R. 

Rambler,  The,  212 

Rawdon,  Sir  John,  256 

Ratisbon,  65,  67 

Remond,  M.,  15,  17,  19,  107,  no 

Richardson,  24,  220,  222,  245,  252, 

255 
Richelieu,  Duke  of,  164,  169 
Rochester,  Lord,  222 
Rome,  140,  149,  153,  154 
Rotterdam,  63 
Roussi,  Charlotte  de,  145 


Salo,  193 

Sandwich,  Lord,  179 
Sardinia,  King  of,  186 
Saxony,  Electoral    Prince  of,    144, 

I45>  170 
Selden,  Camille,  2S,  31 
Sevigne,  Mdme.  de,  i,  215,  216,  294 
Sigteum,  100 
Smollett,  208 
Sophia,  78 

Sosi,   Count  Jeronimo,   248,   250 
South  Sea  Company,  106 
Sowden,  Rev.  Benj.,  27 
Spectator,  The,  36,  51,  217 
Stair,  Lord,  in 

Steele,  Sir  Richard,  6,  7,  43,  208 
Steuart,    Sir  James,  24,    293,   295, 

297,  299,  300 
Steuart,  General,  29S 
Stuart,  Lady  Louisa,  4,  27,  28,  59, 


Stuart,  Lady  Mary,  234 
Swift,   Dean,    126,    127,    134,    207, 
213,  214,  218,  242 

T. 
Tatler,  The,  36,  41 
Theocritus,  85 
Thoresby,  38,  39,  124,  168 
Tunbridge,  175,  176 
Turin,  100,  139 
Twickenham,  106,  no 

V. 
Valence,  159 
Vane,  Lady,  20S 
Venice,  21,  22,  139,   140,   142,   145, 

148,    172,    229,    262,    268,    282, 

290,  301 
Vienna,  63,  67,  68,  72,  ■]i,  197 
Villette,  Mr.,  157,  158 

W. 
Wackerbarth,  Count,  146,  170 
Walpole,  Horace,    i,  2,  8,   n,    19, 

21,   23,   25,   26,  30,  55,  57,   124, 

129,     148,    162,    164,    177,    242, 

292 
Walpole,  Lady,  21,  22,  148 
Walpole,  Sir  Robert,  n5,  133,  138, 

157,  166,  215 
Wharncliffe,  163 
Wharncliffe,  Lord,  28,  34,  175 
Wharton,  Philip,  Duke  of,  12,  n6 
Williams,     Sir    Charles    Hanbury, 

257 
Wortley,  Anne,  6,  35,  l^,  38,  40 
Wortley    Montagu,    Edward,   6,  8, 
10,  15,  17,  20,  24,  40,  45,  47,  50, 
63>  72,  11,  75.  76,  88,  106,   no, 
n2,  133,  155,  161,  166,  197.295. 
301 
Wortley    Montagu,    Edward,   jun., 
15.52,  159,  161 


Young,  180 


Z. 


Zathia,  Prince  de,  152 


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